


Awakened

by buttsonthebeach



Series: Hamilton x Dragon Age [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming of Age, Dreams, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family, First Love, Implied Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Latin as Tevene, Loss of Virginity, Magic, Mild Language, Mirror Sex, Orgasm Delay, POV Multiple, Vaginal Fingering, Very Brief Torture in Chapter Nineteen, implied Sera/Dagna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:50:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 133,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10080125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttsonthebeach/pseuds/buttsonthebeach
Summary: Ellana Lavellan is dying, the long dormant magic of the Anchor finally taking its toll, but her daughter Ashara refuses to accept her fate. While Solas looks backwards for hope, she looks forward, and while her time in Tevinter has provided her with a lead, only time will tell if it is a good one - and what its cost will be. A story of growing up, family ties, magic, and some mystery.****Smut in Chapters 5, 11, 12, 24, and 27. All smut is clearly marked by an asterisk in the chapter title and in the notes, and is easily skippable. Sequel to my Solavellan fic "Body of Knowledge" - knowledge of the previous fic is not necessary, but certainly very helpful.





	1. Sound and Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! I feel like I have about 156 caveats I nervously want to put at the start of this fic, but I will limit myself to three:
> 
> 1) I hate the title. I hate the title. I hate the title.
> 
> 2) This is a sequel to a Solavellan fic called ["Body of Knowledge"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8686498/chapters/19913758). If you have not read it, the most crucial information currently is that Solas surrendered after two years of more or less open warfare/subversion and helped Ellana found an elven republic called Enasan in the Arbor Wilds. They reconciled, had a daughter named Ashara, and discovered when she was in her teens that the energy of the Anchor was still killing Ellana.
> 
> 3) Solas and Ellana are not in the first 3 chapters, but will play an increasingly larger role as time goes on. This fic will also feature some Inquisition favorites (Dorian, Sera and Dagna), but the OCs you meet in this chapter will continue to play a major role, if not the most major role.
> 
> With that, enjoy!

Lucius Talvas would never forget the sound of his little brother's skull when it hit the cobblestones of Vyrantium's streets.

  
Erast was only eight. He did not understand that the elf who pushed him out the window had been beaten down, too. Then again, the elf didn't understand that the boy he tossed so easily, so carelessly, had also known days of hunger and fear. That though his ears were round, he was no stranger to want.

  
"Now you know that I do not play, human," the elf said. "Give me your money or -"

  
Lucius set the elf on fire, of course.

That was how it felt when he did. Like an afterthought, though he'd never used magic before. One moment the elf was standing there, barely concealing the tremble in the hand that held the knife, and then he was in flames. It was the third day of riots in Vyrantium. It was 9:54 Dragon, ten years since Magister Pavus and Magister Tilani stood on the floor of the Magisterium and demanded an end to slavery. Ten years since the forces of Fen'Harel began to make that a reality. Of course, that was the beginning of a war, and promises were made to the slaves who joined the Imperium’s efforts - stay on our side, do not follow the Dread Wolf, and there are fields south of the sea that will be yours.

They did not follow through.

  
Ten years of those broken promises, and now the streets burned and Erast fell without a sound until he hit the pavement, and Lucius felt the flames still in his veins even as the elf's corpse smoldered. He was twelve. He did not remember the world before the broken promises.

  
The sound came to him now and then when he studied in the Circle. Less so when he transferred to the one in Minrathous. He was happy their parents never heard it. They’d gone out of the shop that day, during a lull in the rioting, hoping to get more food. They never came back, and he never found out why. But at least they didn't have to flinch when someone dropped a heavy book, or come awake at night because someone closed a door too hard. They didn’t feel the rage, the fire bubble up in them when they passed an elf on the street who had the same slanted eyes or too-narrow hips.

Lucius sometimes hated the Altus mages who studied alongside him, who had never heard such a sound. Some of them told stories they thought were harrowing, of fleeing sumptuous country homes for ‘cramped’ city dwellings, or having to give up a prize horse because now they had to _pay_ the slaves (and stop calling them slaves). Some had true horror stories, of mothers and fathers murdered in their beds by angry slaves. But none of them had heard that sound.

It was going to be fine, Lucius always told himself when the rage bubbled up. Eventually, if he studied enough, if he channeled the fire carefully enough, if he twirled his staff just right, his mind would clear, and all he would hear was the wind in the harbor. He was lucky. He was good at this. More determined than the others. And now that would pay off.

  
Magister Corix was interested in being his patron.

  
True, he was twenty-four, and he'd seen others with less skill made Enchanter before him, but he wasn't going to complain now. He didn’t complain when he got up early to help his father run the print shop instead of going to school, and he didn’t complain when other students went home for holidays and he stayed in the Circle studying. He was the only member of his family who still drew breath, the first one in generations untold who was gifted with magic. He didn’t have room to complain.  
The only problem now was that Magister Corix had never considered a Laetan apprentice. He made it clear that he wanted some - assurances. So there Lucius was, going to the back of the Circle library, the one filled with journals and genealogies, searching for the final link he needed to make his case. The journal of a magister who may just be the ancestor he needed to prove he came from good blood.

  
He walked down the rows of bookshelves until he reached the one the librarian indicated. Third shelf, midway down - Devrenix, Ether - then a blank spot.

Where was Estoris?

  
It was a dusty shelf in an unfrequented aisle, but the one book he needed was missing. Of course.

  
He sighed. Whoever had it would have to bring it back before long. For now, he would go to his usual haunt - the books on practical applications of lightning spells, and whether or not they could be used as a sustained source of power for various items.  
But every day he came back that week, it was still gone. He was getting nervous. Magister Corix would not wait forever.

  
On the seventh day, as he passed through the aisle, he reached one of the sections set aside for studying, and was startled to see it was occupied. By an elf, no less. It was hard not to stare at the long, bladed ears. Different than the short, sharp ears of the elf in Vyrantium who killed Erast. It had been a while since he'd seen one, and never here in the Circle. For her part, she didn't seem to notice. She was scribbling furiously in a notebook, glancing back and forth between what appeared to be a translation guide for Ancient Tevene, and -

  
_The Collected Journals of Magister Nicon Estoris._

  
"Excuse me," he said before he realized what he was doing. "How much longer do you need that?"

  
The eyes that met his were round, blue, and sat above a smattering of freckles that covered a straight, strong nose. Her skin was light brown, still darker than most elves he'd known, and she had thick, kinky brown hair, tied back impatiently behind her so that loose curls framed her angular face.

  
"Pardon? I do not speak Tevene."

  
She had faint traces of an accent, though what one he couldn't name.

  
"I'm sorry. I just asked how much longer you'll need that book. I have been looking for it all week. It is a matter of some urgency."

  
Her fingers curled around the book, defensively.

  
"Could I keep it another hour? I'm nearly done. I apologize that I have kept it from you."

  
"That is fine. Bring it to the section on elemental magics when you're done." He realized that he'd never seen her before. It was a large Circle, true, but he still knew most faces. She had to be new here. "Do you know where that is?"

  
She narrowed her eyes and his pulse jumped a little. It was a predatory movement.

  
"Yes. I will be there within the hour." She went back to reading.

  
"I'm Lucius Talvas, by the way," he said. "In case you need to ask for me."

  
She did not lift her head. Instead she turned a page in the book. He was on the verge of repeating himself when she spoke.

  
"Ash Ostwick."

  
A peculiar name. He wondered as he walked away if she was from the alienage - or, former alienage, he supposed - in Ostwick. If so, why was she here in Tevinter? And why was she pouring over an obscure journal by an ancient magister?  
It didn't matter. What mattered was that he almost had the book in hand. He would be able to prove himself. He would have a patron. He would never hear that sound again.

  
This Ash was true to her word, at least. It had only been half an hour when she arrived at his table and held out the book. He stood to receive it - there was never a bad time to practice his manners, not if this book meant what he hoped it did - and realized that she was taller than he expected. Not quite his height, but taller than other elves. She looked less like she was starving all the time, too.

  
"I apologize again for the trouble," she said.

  
"Thank you," he said. She nodded and it seemed like she was about to turn and go. He couldn't resist asking. "Your accent - where are you from, exactly?"

  
She looked at him for a moment. "Enasan," she said then. "Born and raised."

  
Enasan - the elven republic far in the south. That did explain the strange lilt. He'd heard they made an effort to raise their children to speak Elvhen.

  
"Enasan? I've never met anyone from there. You are far from home." Questions bubbled in his mind. What is it like there? What is it like to study magic without this scrabbling for position? To see a new nation rise? Was it worth the blood in the streets, the cries of 'Fen'Harel enasalin?’ The sound of Erast's skull when it hit the cobblestone?

  
"I am," she said, neutrally. She inclined her head then. "Farewell."

  
She was gone from his mind for the rest of the day, because the journal was a success. An overly poetic, somewhat annoying success. The part he was reading covered Nicon’s grief at the loss of his betrothed. Between the constant laments and weird digressions on the Fade (some sort of bizarre poetry about pulling pieces of it away and locking it like jewels in stormheart so he could at last find where her spirit roamed), he found the reference to the cousin who came to console him. The cousin who later moved to Vyrantium, bet his fortune and lost it, married the daughter of an up and coming shopkeeper, lost her dowry, and left behind three children who would later sire the Talvas family line.

  
If anyone had asked him about the elf who had the book first, he would have wagered he'd never see her again. He might not have even remembered who they were talking about.

  
*

  
A wyvern heart.

  
The lineage wasn't enough.

  
Magister Corix wanted a wyvern heart.

  
Which meant another trip back to the library, for research into the creatures. He cut through the historical section to reach it, and that was when he saw her, in the same aisle, turning the book over and over in her hand. Her hair was not bound this time and it framed her face in a wild array of curls, hiding her long pointed ears. Her face was pensive, but she sensed him almost at once, and when she looked up the expression was gone.

  
"Hello - you didn't need this again, did you?"

  
"No. I am passing through today." Trade still felt heavy on his tongue. He wondered what his accent sounded like to her. He didn't speak it often enough. Another thing to practice.

  
"Back to elemental magics?"

  
"Biological studies, actually."

  
"Anything in particular?"

  
"Wyverns."

  
"Oh - I saw one once. They can be formidable foes. Is your interest academic or practical?"

  
"Both, I suppose. You didn't see one near here, did you? Or was it in Enasan?"

"No," she said slowly, thinking. "But there are caves not far from here, on the coast. I would search there first."

  
"I thought the same."

  
The conversation had flowed like water so far. Now it stuttered to a halt.

  
"Well - happy hunting," she said.

  
“Thank you.”

By the end of the day, Lucius had a thorough grounding in the basics of wyverns - their local varieties, their habitats, their feeding and breeding habits, their weaknesses. Both he and Ash were right - the cave system on the coast not far from Minrathous was a good place to start. Now all he needed was supplies and an escort. When he returned to his quarters and counted his coin, it seemed unlikely he would be able to afford both. Well. He would go to the market the next day prepared to bargain, and see what he could do. He could not fail in this task.

  
*

  
Ash Ostwick was in the market.

He did a double-take when he saw her at the stall he was heading for. Someone else was with her this time - a human woman, dark-haired. Was that Claudia Naevar? It was. He'd never really noticed how short she was until now. Ash was nearly a head taller than her. Odd for an elf.  He’d seen Claudia many times before, of course, and even spoken to her on occasion. She was apprenticed to Magister Dorian Pavus, in line to become a full Enchanter of the Circle within the year.

“Good afternoon,” he said when he approached. Both women turned, but it was Ash whose face warmed with a smile.

“Lucius - how did researching wyverns go?”

  
“Well. I am here to purchase some supplies for my journey.”

“Did you settle on the caves on the coast?”

“I did.”

Claudia raised an eyebrow at that. She was the quiet sort, not given to much conversation, and he didn’t take offense that she hadn’t spoken yet.

“Truly?” Claudia said. “We were also planning a journey that way.”

"Perhaps we could go together?” Ash chimed in. “There's safety in numbers. Fighting wyverns is no easy task."

  
Lucius hesitated at that. Why such an open, easy offer of support from someone he barely knew? His years in the Circle taught him to be wary of such offers. There was always a bill at the end of the day.

  
"Why are you heading in that direction?" he asked.

  
"We need metals - stormheart and such - for an experiment we're trying," Ash said. "The caves you'd be searching might have them."

  
"An experiment? Are you also trying to gain the patronage of a magister?"

  
Ash laughed, but the sound was a little strained. "No. I am just the sort of person who likes experiments."

  
"Magister Pavus is also interested in the outcome of our research," Claudia replied.

  
He was still hesitating.

  
"Let us buy you lunch," Ash said then. "We can get to know each other and decide if it seems like a good idea."

He paid for his own lunch, of course, though it pained him to watch those two silvers slip out of his hand. Two silvers fewer to hire a mercenary to come with him. But now he was seated across a table from the two of them, chatting idly about the weather and some gossip that had been floating around the Circle, and he had the opportunity to ask the questions that had been flitting around the back of his mind ever since he first encountered Ash in the library.

  
"You never did tell me why you're here in the Imperium," he said.

  
"I was top of my class at our academy in Enasan,” she replied. “And Magister Pavus has always been a supporter of our country. He extended me an invitation to come and study here in Minrathous, and I accepted. It will be good for both our countries. They need to see elves here, and not just as former slaves."

  
"How old are you?"

  
"Nearly twenty."

Enasan itself had only been around for twenty-one years.

  
"It must have been interesting, growing up at the same time a your country. Everything here in the Imperium is dictated by thousands of years of tradition."

  
"We are an ancient culture," she said, stiffly. "It's only our location that's new."

  
"I did not mean any offense."

  
"Oh, it's fine. You are right. Enasan is an interesting place. So many people from so many backgrounds, all striving to create a new nation."

  
"Where were your parents from, then? You almost look Rivaini."

  
"My mother is Dalish. My father is -” she looked away, her attention suddenly drawn by the barkeep, though why he could not fathom. “From Ostwick. From the alienage. Hence the last name.”

“I suspected as much. They must have met in Enasan, then.”

“I am going to get more water. Claudia, do you need anything?”

“Something stronger than water,” she said, dryly. Ash left then, head ducked.

“So this experiment,” Lucius asked. “What is it?”

“It’s a joke, really,” Claudia said. “She’s gotten it into her head that she can prove a theory same ancient magister had about storing dreams in a focus.”

“It’s not a joke,” Ash said, returning, her brows knit, blue eyes fierce. Claudia just sighed and reached for the ale she’d brought.

They were hiding something. He was almost sure of it. Not surprising. Wasn’t everyone? He could walk away now if he really wanted. Go and barter with some mercenary to come with him. But he had so little money...

“Anyway, that’s me,” Ash said. “What about you?”

“Not much to tell. Grew up in Vyrantium, transferred to the Minrathous Circle a few years ago. Just another Laetan trying to make my way in the world.”

“Here, here,” Claudia said, raising her ale.

“I didn't realize you were a Laetan.”

“Yes. Born in Qarinus. My family used to bake for the Pavus family. My parents died when I was already in the Circle there, but Dorian Pavus took an interest in me. I’ve been under his instruction since then.”

He heard it then. The whistle of air and then the crack on the ground. Then flames. She had not heard such things.

“So not quite another Laetan trying to make their way in the world.”

“I guess not.”

“That was a little rude,” Ash said then, her tone more puzzled than angry.

“And you’re rather blunt for an elf. I thought your people were all about symbols and double-meanings.”

Get a hold of yourself, Lucius. This is the time to practice. Rein in your anger. This is Minrathous. Not an alleyway brawl with the boys next door.

She smiled, but narrowed her eyes, just like before.

“How do you know there haven't been any?”

Definitely hiding something.

“So should we leave tomorrow or the day after?” Ash asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well I haven't heard any reason why we should not travel together. You seem interesting enough to make the journey go by fast. Claudia?”

Claudia sighed again. He made a note to ask her later how long they’d known each other. Ash made it sound like she hadn't been in Minrathous for very long, but from what little he knew of Claudia, she was not inclined to such - grumpiness. And that sigh was the long-suffering kind of a friend or older sister.

“Very well,” he said. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”

It would be like an exercise, he decided. Practice for when he became an Enchanter and had to work closely among magisters and their like. He knew his instincts were right. He would see how well he could work alongside them while divining their real purpose. Were they spies? Unlikely. Claudia had little to gain from spying on him, and Dorian Pavus was far more powerful than Corix. Whatever was off, it was with this Ash Ostwick. Why would Enasan want to send spies to the Imperium? They had decent diplomatic ties, mainly through Pavus and the chief ambassador of Enasan, former Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan - though he did recall hearing that she had stepped down from that post recently.

No matter. He would unravel it in time. He would find the wyvern and bring back its heart and fall asleep every night on soft sheets with nothing but silence in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/)! I also have pictures and background information about the OCs featured in this fic.


	2. The Means to an End

If anything was strange about Ash Ostwick, it was her unstoppable curiosity.

For Lucius, knowledge was a means to an end. When he had a task, he sought the knowledge he needed relentlessly, which was why he could now tell you everything about wyverns from their closest living relatives to their calls to the last year their scales were in fashion in Orlais. And before he had that task, he had never once thought about them.

Ash was another story.

Not an hour out of Minrathous they had to stop at a traveling merchant’s stall so she could ask about the necklaces they were selling. Not just how much they cost, but “why is this one blue? Why not make it green?” and “why round instead of oval?” and “do you ever wonder about them after you sell them? How often they get worn? If they are lost or broken?” And once her questions were answered, she smiled brightly and they were on their way. There was no use for the information that he could see. If she was a spy, she was either not a good one, or she was so subtle she was playing at games he couldn't guess.

Then there was her near total inability to hide what she was feeling. When they broke for their midday meal and she asked him about his magic, he got to watch her go through a series of expressions quick as lightning.

“We haven't talked about our magic much yet. What's your story? When did you first discover your powers?” Her face was open, eager. Her blue eyes were trained carefully on him, like she might miss something if she blinked.

“When my brother was killed during the 9:54 riots.”

Now her eyebrows fell, her lips parted. Such honest sadness.

“I am so sorry. That must have been awful,” she said.

“It was.”

She looked down, ashamed now, worrying her lower lip for an instant before she mastered the impulse. Was she overacting on purpose? Trying to give the appearance of honesty?

“It meant a way out,” he said. “I was happy about that.”

She nodded, but didn't look up until later, and again she had the searching look in her eyes.

“So what were you drawn to, first?”

“Fire. I’m decent with lightning as well.”

“It was fire for me as well.”

“And when did you discover your abilities?”

“I was eight. It was nothing special, really. I’d been trying to do magic my whole life. My father was always certain I’d be a mage. Then one day it finally happened. Instead of just seeing the fire in my mind, it was there.”

Most of Lucius’ life, he’d at least been able to look down to the lower quarter of Vyrantium and see that they had it better than the elves. Even freed of slavery, they were poor, and given little opportunity. Those who could made the long journey to Enasan, but it took money to get to the border and reach sympathizers in Nevarra who would help them travel the rest of the way, and so, inevitably, there were those who remained. Lucius saw little of them in the Circle or in Minrathous, which was just as well. He could never hate all elves, of course - but the sight of pointed ears still made him smell the smoke, sometimes.

Yet here she sat. Tall and well-fed and talking about family and magic like they were inseparable parts of her. Parts that caused no pain. He tried to swallow the envy but it was bitter in his throat.

“We’ll have to show each other some trick when we break for the night,” she said. “Claudia has already shown me all of hers.”

“That’s what you think,” Claudia said.

It was nightfall when they broke again, because Ash had stopped them to investigate a ruin. She tried briefly to convince them to camp there instead of stopping in a town, but Claudia put her foot down. Ash looked ready to fight, but gave in.

“How long have you two known each other, exactly?”

He did not miss the look Ash shot Claudia. The soon-to-be Enchanter was a practiced liar, though, like any good Tevene.

“Just since she came here. But I’ve gotten good at dealing with willful people, living all this time around Magister Pavus.”

Ash snorted at that. “Anyone would.”

She had to have been in Tevinter longer than she said. They knew each other too well. Claudia was not one to open herself up to many. He’d often seen her sitting alone in classes, or in the courtyard, or in the library. But the elf displayed such curiosity when they arrived in town, asking about its customs and beliefs - things she would have certainly known had she been anywhere but Minrathous for long. He couldn't escape the feeling that it was genuine.

“So, time for a demonstration?” Ash said when they were done eating at the inn. “Not here, of course. Outside.”

“What exactly did you want to demonstrate?”

“I don't know. Whatever you want. You said you are good with fire - let's try glyphs.”

So outside they went, and she went first. Her staff was metal, curving elegantly at the top, and with a wicked jeweled blade at the bottom. Not the kind of staff a poor mage owned. Where had she gotten it from? Perhaps her parents were wealthy, though their origins did not suggest that. He was on the verge of asking when she began to move with her staff - slow, measured steps, dragging the tip behind her. Then she twirled it once or twice - aligning it to her mana, maybe, he felt a little tug on the Fade -  then more steps, a few hand gestures, and she stepped away. The glyph glowed slowly to life, more slowly than he’d seen one do so in the past. The heat coming off of it was palpable.

“Test it,” she said.

“You’re daft if you think I’ll step on it.”

She laughed. “Of course not. Try and dispel it.”

He reached for his own mana, gathered the Fade to himself and pulled, smoothing the wrinkle she’d created in the form of the glyph. It took more effort than he thought, caused a sharp twinge in his stomach, and he felt another aura close beside his - he reached out for it and they sparked together. Hers, he realized. His hair stood on end. It was such a familiar gesture from another mage, like taking his hand. What was she trying to figure out?

“Took you more effort than I thought it would. And you’re no slouch from what I felt. Good. I’m improving.”

“What a slow cast, though. And so much movement on your part. It would be useless in a fight.”

“For now, yes. I can cast faster, of course, but then it’s not as stable. Right now, I’m doing it as slowly and precisely as I can. I have time to make it faster.”

It wasn't laziness before. It was careful control.

“So what are you working on?” She was waving her hand back and forth now, conjuring and dissipating Veilfire. Her mana was expanding and contracting around her, almost like she was flexing. What was she trying to do? Intimidate him.

“At the moment? Not much spellwork. I’ve been focused on what my soon-to-be patron wants.”

“Why would that mean you’re not doing any spellwork?” She asked, head cocked.

“Because I don't need to.”

“You wouldn't do it just for fun?”

She wasn't playing with the Veilfire or her own aura to intimidate him - it was for fun?

“I suppose not.”

“Hm.”

She played around with Claudia then - there was no other word for it, the way she sent harmless spells her way and practiced deflecting the ones Claudia sent in return - but she looked at him every now and then, thoughtfully. Perhaps waiting for him to join in. He thought about it for a moment - but whatever her reasons for trying to engage him, it was probably best that he didn't. He did note, with some satisfaction, that her barriers were not very good. Her pattern for casting them was not as stable as the one he’d learned. It was a strength he could keep hidden for now.

Or teach her.

But that second thought came unbidden, later that night, moments before he entered the Fade. It was not the sort of thought he should trust.

*

The next morning, Ash was down in the tavern before him. She looked drawn, worried. Her hands were tight around the mug before her.

“Did you not sleep well?” He asked. She sighed and spun her mug around for a while before answering.

“I did not. You?”

“Fine.”

She continued to stare at her mug. Maybe this was a time to find out more.

“Do you often sleep poorly? Is that why you are undertaking this experiment to trap dreams?”

She twirled her mug again, and did not meet his eyes.

“Yes.”

A slow, considered syllable. Like she had to think about the answer.

He thought he’d be able to get more out of Claudia later, but she was focused entirely on the day’s plan of attack. According to a traveler they spoke to, the wyverns had indeed been spotted within the last day or so, two of them, and they typically returned to their lair during the day, when it was hottest. They would almost certainly find them there, and they only had an hour or two more to go.

“Lucius, you said you’re good with lightning. Can you do a static cage?”

“Well enough.”

“Good. Our biggest problem is going to be keeping them off of us. None of us has particularly heavy armor and we can’t keep a barrier up all the time, but maybe if we alternate casting it on each other we’ll stay covered. I can cast fear on them to panic them into running away, but chasing them will also be a pain. We don’t want them heading off into some distant part of the cave that we can’t reach.”

“Agreed,” he said.

Ash didn’t seem to have much to add to that. She still had a faraway look in her eyes.

“Then again, Ash, you can summon a wall of fire to block their escape. That would work. What do you think?” Claudia asked. No response. “Ash?”

“Yes, fine, Claudia,” she said. She seemed to come back to herself then. “And afterwards, we’ll go in search of the stormheart. Right?”

“Of course,” Claudia replied. There was a calming note in her voice. Ash still looked worried. “It may take some time to find a deposit that’s been Fade-touched. I hope you won’t mind helping, Lucius.”

“Not at all,” he said.

They reached the cave at noon, took time to tie up their horses and work with their staves to warm-up, then headed in. It was a seaside cave, and its damp closeness made Lucius think of the sewers in Vyrantium. This smelled better, though. Clean and mossy. The Veil was indeed thinner here than in most other places. His mana expanded through him at its touch and he felt lighter, already anticipating how much easier it would be to cast. They were silent as they crept further into the cave, and his thoughts began to consume him. He’d have a good story out of this to tell, in addition to what he needed for Magister Corix. Something he could impress other apprentices with. The dark cave, the buzz of the Veil, the two mysterious women, the wyvern diving down from its perch -

“Shit,” Claudia said, and her barrier descended around them at the same time that the wyvern screeched.

It was massive, white, exactly what he needed, and more terrifying than he was prepared for. One claw rent through his coat. He could feel the heat of it, the power, as it screeched and reared back, but he sent a burst of flame against its belly, and it stumbled back - right onto a fire glyph he could only assume had come from Ash.

“Quick!” She cried, darting forward, trying to drive the blade of her staff into its flank. It twisted away, still howling in pain from the flames that wreathed it, but likewise still sinewy, graceful, angry in its movements. It was scathed, not injured.

“Hold it!” Claudia called, purple smoke surrounding her. She was preparing to cast fear. He reached past the Veil for lightning and called it down to him, felt it race through his blood and out of his outstretched hand in the form of a cage that trapped the wyvern, shocking it, right as Ash dove in again, setting the wyvern aflame before whirling her staff around. The blade met its flesh this time, bit deep into its neck. It bellowed, and then the giant spectral skull reared above it, and it screeched again, and Lucius almost pitied the creature when Ash went in again with her blade and punctured its neck.

The air crackled with magic and the temperature was certainly warmer than when they’d began, but after a moment or two, those effects began to disappear, and the wyvern remained dead at their feet.

“Good job, team,” Claudia said then. Ash let out a whopping laugh. The energy of the fight had finally cleared whatever it was that hung over her all morning.

“Fenedhis, that was exactly as fun as I thought it would be. I almost wish there were more.”

“ _Don’t_ say that. I’d rather not press my luck.”

“The traveler we met did say there was more than one in here,” Lucius added. “It would be good to bring back more than one heart for Magister Corix. I’m not saying we go looking, but if we see one…”

“Fair enough.”

Lucius took his pack off to look for the knife he’d bought specially for this, then, with some effort, rolled the wyvern onto its back so he could begin cutting away at the underbelly. It was harder than he’d anticipated, the scales sharp against his palms. The ribs presented another challenge. It would take him some time to saw through them with the knife he’d bought. He hadn’t thought of that.

“Here -” Ash said, as if reading his train of thought. She summoned a small amount of force and shot it against the ribs, cracking them. “My mother always said that’s one of the tough parts, if you need the organs.”

“So she was a hunter for her clan?”

“Yes. One of their best.”

“Which clan?”

Ash didn’t answer, but he was too focused on the feel of the slippery entrails in his hands as he searched for and found the large muscle, exactly where the anatomy book said he would. It was still hot in his hands and his stomach turned, suddenly, at the sight of all of it. He cut it free and then settled it carefully in the large, enchanted box that Magister Corix had given him, which would preserve it.

  
“Excellent. The Veil is as thin here as we thought, too. If we head further in, we should find some deposits of stormheart. Shall we?” Ash said, offering a hand to help him up. He took it. She was stronger than her lithe frame let on, and he noted, again, that she seemed - well - curvier than most elves he’d seen. Perhaps they were just better fed in Enasan. As they walked further into the cave, illuminated by deep mushrooms and the Veilfire Ash summoned, their senses attuned for the peculiar hum of Fade-touched metal, he thought to ask her about her homeland. It was unlikely he’d come across such an opportunity again anytime soon.

“We talked the other day about what it was like in Enasan in general. What was it like for you? Your parents can’t have come from very much, being Dalish and from an alienage.”

“Enasan is a place where many people become more than what they were,” she said. “I’m curious - what do people say about Enasan here in the Imperium? I’ve already asked Claudia, but I’d like your opinion.”

Claudia was, in fact, a little ahead of them now, keeping a wary eye out for more wyverns. He noticed, of course, that Ash hadn’t really answered his question. That was information in and of itself. He decided not to draw attention to it, to follow her line of questioning instead.

“Most of the Magisterium curses it, but that’s not a surprise. Fen’Harel cost them dearly, and then the formation of Enasan only destabilized things further. I think the only people they hate more are Magister Pavus and Magister Tilani.”

“What about outside of the Magisterium?”

“What, the average person? Good Andrastians dislike the fact that they do not worship Andraste.”

“That’s not true. Some do. Divine Victoria has even been to visit some of our Chantries.”

“But the entire country isn’t Andrastian, is it? Are you?”

“No,” she said blithely.

“Then who do you believe in?”

“I think that’s a difficult question for many elves, at this point, after what was revealed.”

“By the Dread Wolf, you mean? So you believe him?”

She was silent a long while, then. Pensive. She would not look at him. It was likely that this was just a genuine nerve, an actual religious struggle within her, and not evidence of whatever it was she was hiding.

“I think what he revealed about the Creators is the only thing that makes sense. So, yes. I think older elves have a harder time. The ones who worshipped them before the Inquisition, before Fen’Harel.” She almost tripped over those words. Inquisition. Dread Wolf. “What do they teach you about them here?”

“The Inquisition? A wild, unwieldy tool that meddled more than it needed to in its quest to stop Corypheus and did worse by letting Fen’Harel go. As for the Dread Wolf himself? A maniac, of course. As long as he lives, Thedas remains in danger.”

“How can that be true when he surrendered on his own and has done nothing to harm anyone in the last twenty years?”

“That we know of.” The truth was, Lucius didn’t spend much time thinking about the Dread Wolf or Enasan - but he was enjoying the give and take of their conversation. He wanted to keep prodding her, to see if she let something slip.

“But he hasn't done anything. Just the hard work of helping build a new nation.”

“And you know that for a fact? Have you met him or something?”

He felt victorious at her silence. She stared straight ahead, and there was tension in the way she walked now. No easy roll of her hips.

Suddenly, Claudia held up a warning hand behind her. They halted and then he heard the soft sound of her casting a barrier over the three of them. It settled over him like a blanket, warm where the cave was cold. When they approached Claudia on soft feet, they saw what she saw. Two wyverns, sleeping in an open space ahead of them.

“I don't think we can sneak past them,” Claudia said. “We should try to kill them while they sleep. Static cage and then we strike?”

Lucius nodded and began to cast. Beside him he could feel the temperature rising as Ashara called fire to herself. His heart began to beat faster at the thought of another fight. How impressed Magister Corix would be by his determination, bringing back three hearts.

The cage he cast was strong, but loud, and the second wyvern was not fully within it. That was the first problem. The second wyvern woke immediately, and lunged, catching Claudia's arm in its jaws as she finished summoning frost. It froze, but Claudia still shrieked with pain. Then Ash cast fire on the one he had pinned and pivoted and sent a chunk of - Fade? Was that Stonefist? He'd met few Rift mages - at the one attached to Claudia. Now wasn't the time to care. Now was the time to strike the one he'd captured with a bolt of lightning, so bright it seared his eyes and his nerves as he cast it. Then Ash was there, lobbing fire to keep it down, but Claudia was still overwhelmed and Lucius didn't think he could hit the wyvern without hitting her, but she let loose a mind blast that nearly knocked all of them over -

  
It was chaos from there. Ducking, diving, casting. When they felled one wyvern the other seemed to fight harder. Its tail struck Lucius's legs so hard he was sure they were broken. He lay there on the cave floor thinking that this was, for certain, how it ended. 

  
But then Ash stood over him, and the Veil crackled around her as she rained blows down on the wyvern, until it was a bloody mess at her feet. Then there was profound silence, except the sound of her harsh breathing.

  
"Claudia!"

  
She fell to her knees. Lucius sat up on his own and felt his leg. Not broken, but Maker did it hurt. Claudia was groaning and clutching her arm.

  
"Hold still, ma falon. Let me try to heal it-"

  
"Please. You're shit at healing and you have no mana left anyway. Give me a regeneration potion."

  
Ash complied immediately, then turned to him, took hold of his wrist and pressed to feel his pulse, he assumed.

  
"Are you okay, too? Is your leg fine?"

  
"Yes, I was just startled -"

  
They all heard the sound then. Deeper in the cave. The roar of other wyverns.

  
"The traveler said only two had been seen," Ash offered, lamely.

  
"I doubt anyone was keeping track of which one was which. They could have seen six different ones, several times," Claudia countered.

  
"Unlikely," Lucius said. "Wyverns don't like to live right on top of one another. The most you're likely to find in one place is a creche - a group that came from one nest. The kind of wyvern we are dealing with doesn't lay more than five in one cycle."

  
"So at most there should be two more," Ash said, almost finishing his sentence.

  
"And if those two attack us together, the way those did?" Claudia said, grunting as she sat up. "We got what Lucius came for. Let's turn around -"

  
"No," Ash said, immediately. "Time is of the essence. We need those metals."

  
"Ash -"

  
" _Please_ , Claudia. I don't want to delay."

  
There was a vehemence in their voices that took Lucius back. It was just an experiment. A joke, Claudia claimed. But Ash's eyes were full of hurt and fear. He wanted to know why. He wanted his leg to stop hurting. Then some part of him wanted to encounter those two other wyverns and keep proving himself. They spent all these hours learning all these different spells and yet this was the first time he was piecing them together and using them in a way that was practical and not theoretical. It was exhilarating.

  
"Let's rest for now," he suggested. "We can catch our breath. It won't take long to regain our mana and then move forward in search of the metal."

  
"Fine," Claudia said, gritting her teeth as blue light enveloped her hand and she pressed it to her arm.

  
Ash didn't seem to understand the concept of rest. She paced while Lucius and Claudia rested against the walls of the cave, testing her mana off and on again in little spurts as it returned. He wanted to ask then. _If this is just an experiment, a joke, then why is it so urgent?_ She did say earlier that it had something to do with why she didn't sleep well. Maybe because she feared going back to sleep tonight without some solution to contain her dreams? That seemed extreme. But he remembered the absolute ferocity with which she pounded the wyvern to death when both of them were down, the way she tended to both of them before herself when the fight was over. He would not interrogate her now.

  
They waited perhaps an hour - Lucius couldn't really say. But then they pushed forward, cautiously. As they walked, Claudia asked him to show her how he'd cast the initial cage and gave him some suggestions for strengthening it and improving the accuracy of its placement so the same thing wouldn't happen again. She made some suggestions to Ash, too, and eventually their nerves were settled. Just in time for them to feel the unusual pull from a vein of stormheart nearby that meant it was Fade-touched.

  
"Perfect," Ash said, running her hands over it. "This is going to be noisy. We should set wards further down the tunnel in case anything comes our way."

  
They did so, and Ash began chipping carefully away at the metal. She was clumsy at first, and he and Claudia began offering advice, which seemed to irritate her. Her shoulders were tight now and her eyebrows furrowed. But eventually she settled into a rhythm, and a hunk of the blue-green metal fell away, and they could all marvel at the faint blue tinge that surrounded it.

  
"It does look different than the kind we have in Enasan," Ash said, turning it over and over in her hand. "I hope it's what we need. Let's get one more chunk, in case."

  
Claudia tried her hand at the mining tools now, and in little time at all, another chunk came loose.

  
"Hah! Told you that you were holding the tools wrong."

  
Ash huffed out an annoyed breath, but said nothing.

  
As they cleaned up, Lucius remembered that in all the time they'd rested earlier, he had never retrieved the two extra hearts. While Ash and Claudia finished packing up their samples and gear, he started heading back.

  
"I'll just start breaking them down - you won't be far behind."

  
Both women nodded. As he walked away, they were deep in conversation in low voices. He was certain that this was another secret. Whatever they needed the stormheart for, it wasn't some half-cocked idea about capturing dreams. Stormheart _was_ one of Enasan's major exports, as it was rare outside of the Arbor Wilds. Could it be that Ash was here doing some kind of research about the other kinds present in Thedas?

  
He was cutting away the skin of the wyvern now, the scales once again sharp against his palm. He distracted himself once again by playing through their conversations, her expressions, the way she cast - anything that might piece it all together.  
That was probably how he failed to notice the fourth wyvern stalking towards him until it was on him, until his chest was being crushed beneath its weight, until its teeth were in his face, and as the world went dark he heard the sound of their voices. It didn't matter what they were doing, as long as they ended the burning and the pressure and the black, as long as they got to him in time -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist the cliffhanger there!
> 
> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/)!


	3. What You Owe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update today! In Chapter Four we'll get to some familiar faces :) Shout out to AsaisWolffe for keeping me motivated!

Lucius woke to the sight of Claudia hovering over him, her hands glowing blue.

“Thank the Maker,” she said. “How do you feel?”

He was burning from head to toe - but that was likely a regeneration potion. There was some pain on his face and chest, but it was dull, distant.

“Fine, I suppose. What happened?”

“A wyvern came home and surprised you. We didn't have wards set towards the front of the cave. Ash is doing that now. Venhedis, but I knew this was going to be a bad idea. We should have hired a templar or a mercenary to come with us, but _no_ , three mages will be fine she says…” She dropped her hands then, and the cool of the healing magic receded. “It got you good. The wyvern. You were lucky we weren't far behind.”

“Is he awake?” Ash, running over now, a blue bottle in her hand. Lyrium. She drained it and then tossed the bottle aside. “Ir abelas, Lucius. We should not have let you go alone. You’re going to be just fine.”

“He has to be. We can't stay past dark. We did hear at least one wyvern further in the cave, and it’ll come out eventually. Maker only knows what else is in here. We didn't bring enough potions for this sort of thing.” Claudia rested a hand on his shoulder. “Rest, for now. We’ll get on our way once the regeneration potion wears off.”

He tried to rest, but he could feel the muscles knitting anew, the skin closing back up. He’d never had injuries like this before - scrapes, cuts, bruises, to be sure, but not gashes. He’d never smelled so much blood before. Then there was that scraping sound, someone cutting something -

“Kaffas, Ash, if you cut yourself skinning that thing, I’m not healing you. I thought your mother taught you how to do these things!”

“She did! I’m just not very good at it.”

He sat up. Ash was picking up where he’d left off. Collecting the hearts.

“You don't have to,” he said.

“It’s fine. Rest, falon.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh - it means friend, of course.”

He did doze a little then, waking to a dull ache all over instead of the heat of the potion. He sat up and felt the tender new skin across his chest stretch. When he looked down, he saw a mess of torn clothing and fresh scars. He could have died. Likely would have. Maybe mercenaries would never have let something like this happen. But would they hover close now, as Claudia and Ash did, offering him bread and water? He saw the enchanted box had been taken out of his pack, too. It made his pulse leap for a second when he remembered. They’d been harvesting the other two.

“Don't worry. I checked the enchantments myself. All three hearts will remain preserved,” Claudia assured him. “Eat. We need to get going.”

It was slow going when they did leave. His body still ached too much to allow for a quick pace on the horses. Even when he tried to push through, Ash insisted they stop now and then. It was frustrating.

“Honestly, it's fine. Let me decide when I’ve had enough,” he said finally in the late afternoon. They needed to make progress. Still, the words still came out more snappish than they needed to, he knew. He just didn't understand. People didn't help each other like this. Not without reason. What would he owe, at the end of this?

“Well, pardon me then,” Ash said. “I’ve never seen so much blood on a person before, and Claudia had to pour half her mana into just stopping the bleeding, but by all means - ride until you fall off the horse.” The words were acidic, her chin held high and haughty. He’d seen that look before, on the face of many an Altus he’d challenged. Surely that was how this would end, as it always had with people like that. Honeyed words and praise and help, and then the bill at the end.

“Look - there's a village nearby,” Claudia pointed out. “Let's stay there instead of pushing back to where we were last night. Tempers are frayed, and someone is going to get hurt again if we push ourselves too hard.”

It was a good plan. The best plan they were going to get. But he still needed to have a measure of control over it. The two of them had dictated so much of this already.

“Good. I have the money to pay for rooms. As thanks for all you’ve done.”

“I’d take real gratitude over coin,” Ash said.

“Ash, stop. We are all tired. Let's just go,” Claudia said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Calling it a village was generous. There were four or five huts, and then an inn that couldn't have more than one room for rent. But it would do. When they walked in, several pairs of eyes took them in immediately. They stared longer than Lucius would have expected. It was probably the singed and bloodied robes. But then he saw that they weren’t stares of curiosity. There was anger in those eyes.

“Good evening,” he said to the barkeep. “We need a place to stay for the night. Do you have a room?”

“For you two? Yes. The knife ear can stay with the other animals in the barn.”

Lucius felt hot and cold all at once. He and Claudia turned immediately to Ash, but her expression was blank. Of course. She didn't speak Tevene. But surely she could deduce - after all, that was why people stared on their way in, wasn't it? Ash had her tightly-curled hair pulled back. There was no missing the long pointed ears, or her sharp, fine features. Surely this wasn't the first time -

“What?” She asked in Trade. “Is there no room?”

Such innocence. How old had she said she was? Nineteen? And this was her first time outside of Enasan?

Before he could answer her, the innkeeper spoke again. Still in Tevene. But this time slowly, and directed straight at her.

“No. Rabbits. Get. Out.”

Ash didn't speak the language. But she heard the tone. Lucius expected anger. He would have been furious. But what he saw was shock. Pain.

“I don't understand,” she said.

He saw her then. Clutching his wrist after the second fight. Getting the wyvern hearts when he couldn't. Slyly avoiding his questions. Defending Fen’Harel, of all people. And now, open-mouthed at the sound of hatred.

“You’ll let all three of us stay here, and we won't hear another word of complaint,” he said.

“No I won't. I don't have to trust a dirty knife ear under my roof. How am I supposed to know she isn't going to slit our throats in our sleep, or rob us blind?”

“We can both vouch for her,” he said. “I trusted her with my life today.”

“Oh, let the boy have his pet,” said a patron at the bar. “Wouldn't want his bed to get cold.”

Ash couldn't understand the words, but she could understand the leering laughter that followed his statement. She looked furious and hurt and ashamed in quick succession.

“On second thought,” Lucius said, drawing himself up, doing his best impression of someone important, haughty, entitled. “Neither of us would want to stay in a place like this, if that's what you think of our friend. Good day.”

They were out in the courtyard when Claudia spoke up.

“I have papers from Magister Pavus - I could have forced them to let us stay. Where will we go now?”

“We could go back to where we started this morning,” he said.

“We’ve veered from the main road - it will take us even longer to get there now.”

“I brought camping supplies. We could just find somewhere safe to camp.”

“But your injuries -” Ash, this time.

“I promise - I feel fine. Let’s set out and we can make a decision along the way.”

They rode for awhile in silence, daylight waning rapidly around them, until they spotted something in the distance - ruins of some kind. Not the ones they’d seen the day before. A different set.

“We could stay there. Set up against one of the walls so nothing comes behind us,” Claudia pointed out.

“I agree,” Lucius said. He didn't want to admit it, but he did still feel the weakness in his chest, the burn on his skin. He would welcome the rest, even if it was on the hard ground.

The ruins were from ancient Tevinter, of course, though Claudia pointed out one or two features that seemed Elvhen. After that, it was quiet while they set up, until at last Ash spoke.

“What were they saying back in the village?”

“Nothing you need to hear,” Claudia replied, soothing.

“I do. I was very fortunate to grow up in Enasan. I didn't have to deal with people like that. For the most part. But now I am out here, and I need to know.”

“He said you belonged out in the barn with the animals. That he couldn't trust you not to kill or rob people,” Claudia said.

“And when they were all laughing?”

“They said they should just let Lucius keep his pet, or his bed would grow cold.”

Lucius was angry and ashamed to hear the words again. But once more, all he really saw on her face was disbelief. Was she truly so naive?

“I see,” she said. Then, a moment later. “Thank you, Lucius, for standing up to them.”

“It was nothing.”

They quieted again after that, beginning separate routines to ready for the night. Lucius left for a little while to strip off his near-destroyed robes and clean himself, and when he returned, Claudia had gone, and Ash was sitting on her bedroll with part of the stormheart in her lap. She ran her hands over it, the same anxious look in her eyes she had that morning.

“Will having it help you sleep?” he asked. She looked at him, perplexed.

“No. Why?”

“Isn't that the point of your experiment? To help with your dreams?”

“Not - exactly. I am quite good at dreaming, actually. I was just thinking about how the spirits here may know something of this metal and its history and properties. Perhaps I will be able to speak to one tonight. It would certainly speed up my process.”

“True, if you could trust what they would say.”

“I can,” she said, with confidence, though her eyes were lowered. Then she spoke again, a minute later. “This experiment - it isn’t for me. It's for someone important to me.”

It was an admission. He decided to press.

“Who?”

“My mother.”

“How would capturing dreams help your mother?”

She looked away then. “I don't even know if it will. It meant something, that you were willing to help me. You could have turned around and left after the first wyvern. You could’ve stayed in the tavern and left us to our own defenses.”

“And you could've left me for dead in the cave.”

“Truly? Is that what you think of me?”

What could he say? The truth was that he didn't trust her much more than the innkeeper did. The truth was that even though he doubted more and more that she was some sort of dangerous spy, he still knew in his bones that she was lying.

“We hardly know each other.”

“That is true. But - still. What have I done to make you think I would do that?”

“This is Tevinter. Distrust is passed down from mother to child every day here.”

“Then it isn’t because I’m an elf?”

Venhedis.

“Not entirely.” She raised her eyebrows at that. “Consider this: when I was a child in Vyrantium, my mother told me stories of Fen’Harel. How any elf I met could be one of his agents, how he wanted all of Tevinter to burn. There was an Altus family we knew of that was murdered in their beds, every man, woman, and child, by his agents. And they’d agreed to give up their slaves.”

She couldn't look at him now, though she did reply. “Fen’Harel did many things that were wrong in the name of our people. That doesn't mean we are all untrustworthy.”

“No - and the Imperium has committed its share of atrocities. More than its share. It just leaves me wondering - why would any elf ever want to come here?”

It was the closest he’d come to admitting his suspicion of her.

“I told you,” she said. “It’s for my mother.”

“But you won't say more than that, will you?”

“I -” Twigs snapped. Claudia was back. Ash never finished the sentence.

“I’ll sit up and watch for a while,” Claudia said. “I suggest the two of you either spit out whatever it was you were just talking about, or go to sleep.”

Ash looked away, then looked him in the eye.

“Good night, Lucius.”

“Good night, Ash.”

Later in the night Claudia woke him to stand watch for a while. And though he knew he shouldn't, he looked over at Ash’s bedroll and saw her lying there, on her back, hands folded across her stomach. Peaceful, unassuming. Beautiful. Look at the world she lived in. Perhaps she was right to hide some things. Perhaps she would tell him in time.

*

When Lucius started to feel his eyes droop later in the night, he went to wake Ash. He hesitated to do it, tried to stay awake as long as he could. It still felt too private to see her asleep, let alone to touch her. But calling her name quietly didn't seem to do the trick.

He finally grabbed her arm and gave her a little shake. She remained utterly slack. Unmoved. He’d never seen someone so deeply asleep. It seemed rude to venture anything further, so he went to Claudia instead. It was a little less awkward with her. At least they knew each other, and there was no unspoken deception sitting between them. She woke quickly to the sound of his voice.

“Claudia, I tried to wake Ash but she seems to be very deeply asleep. Should we all just sleep now, or do you think you can watch a little longer?”

Claudia sighed. “Not a chance. I’ll wake her.”

Claudia rolled out of her bedroll and went to Ash’s side. Lucius followed, watching as Claudia took a breath and summoned ice to her hand, and laid it against Ash’s neck. Lucius winced to feel the cold so close to him - but Ash didn't move. Claudia frowned, then called her name, and gave her a shake. Then her face filled with fear.

“No. This can't be happening. She could be stuck or - or - something.”

“Stuck?”

  
"She's a somniari."

His stomach dropped.

  
"What? That's not possible.”

  
"It is completely possible. I know it for a fact.” Claudia tried one more time with the frost-covered hand. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Dorian is going to kill us both. She’s like family to him. We need to tell him. He needs to get in contact with her father."

Lucius felt the world swimming a little around him.

  
“How will her father help?"

  
Claudia shook her head, ran a hand through her short hair, then sighed.

  
"We were not truthful with you, Lucius. Her name is not Ash Ostwick. It's Ashara Lavellan."

  
His skin prickled. "Lavellan. As in Inquisitor Lavellan.”

She hadn't mentioned her mother’s clan name when he asked.

“Her mother,” Claudia said. “Dorian’s closest friend.”

Which was why she was with Claudia, why she had grown up in Enasan, lived a privileged life there. But the only lover he’d ever heard of in connection with Ellana Lavellan was no humble elf from Ostwick.

“So her father is -" He couldn't bring himself to say the name.

  
"Fen'Harel,” Claudia said. “The Dread Wolf. The only other somniari I have ever met."

  
Shit.  
*

Dawn came and she still didn't wake.

There was nothing for it. They had to put her on the horse in front of Lucius, tether her horse to Claudia’s, and get to the nearest town. They could only hope that moving wouldn't cause her any harm. Every time she lolled against him, every time he feared he might lose his grip, his pulse sped up. He didn’t feel any better when they found an inn with a room to rent and laid her down, though her breathing was still deep, even, and peaceful. They sent a raven to Minrathous, prayed to the Maker that Magister Pavus was back from his most recent trip, and waited at her side..

Now that the journey was over, Lucius let himself consider what Claudia told him. He still couldn't believe it. The daughter of the Inquisitor and the Dread Wolf. Lying here in a bed before him. Not waking up.

“You could go, you know,” Claudia said when the silence stretched on. “Get back to Magister Corix. We aren't far from Minrathous.”

“I know. But…”

“I thought so. I wouldn't be able to tear myself away either.”

A raven arrived not long after that. Dorian Pavus was on his way to them.

When he reached them, he was exactly how Lucius imagined he would be. Handsome, with well-coiffed graying hair, fashionable, and talking a mile a minute the instant he entered the room.

“I leave you two alone for one week. One week, Claudia. Has she changed at all? Moved, stirred?”

“No.”

Lucius had wondered what it would be like to meet the man who helped lead the Lucerni, who brought the biggest changes to the Imperium in centuries, who’d stood side by side with the Inquisitor against Corypheus. Mostly he felt ignored as Magister Pavus felt Ash - Ashara’s - forehead and swore fluently.

“I already called Ellana and Solas through the crystal. He should be with her now in the Fade. He says he can guide her back out, if that’s the issue. One of them will call us if they need to.”

Ellana and Solas. The Inquisitor and the Dread Wolf. They couldn't be real people that one could refer to so casually, like you might run into them on the street.

“And you are?” Magister Pavus said then, startling him.

“Lucius Talvas of Vyrantium, a student in the Minrathous Circle.”

The magister looked him over quickly. “I see. And your relationship to this entire affair?”

“He had his own mission - we simply decided to travel together. He’s been very helpful,” Claudia added.

“That's good. I doubt I would survive long if my dear friends found out I’d gotten their only daughter kidnapped and debauched by some Vint. Dorian of House Pavus, by the way, in case you needed an introduction. Please stop staring. I am not in the mood to have my ego stroked.”

“Yes, ser.”

Dorian sighed then, and looked down at Ashara. “Well, I suppose we wait. I hoped she’d be awake when I got here. Please tell me that this was at least in pursuit of a promising lead.”

“Maybe. What we were looking for was better than anything else we’ve found in the last six months.”

Silence.

“She said she was trying to find a way to capture dreams. That it was for her mother,” Lucius ventured. “That wasn’t the truth, was it?”

Claudia and Dorian shared a look.

“It’s not exactly a state secret. Why doesn't he know, if he was so helpful?”

“Ashara didn't want to tell anyone. Perhaps we should wait for her.”

“Yes, perhaps we should.”

So wait they did, and Lucius wondered exactly what it was he’d gotten himself into.  
*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/)!


	4. Half-Heard Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we step out of Lucius’s perspective for a while! I hope it didn’t suck too much waiting for a more familiar character - I just enjoyed the dramatic irony of him not knowing what was going on and making his best guesses. I also figured it was a good way to get to know him, rather than through Ashara’s eyes.
> 
> Also, I’ve decided that it makes sense that when two characters are speaking Elvhen together, I should write out nicknames and words like “da’len” as their English translation since I am writing everything else in English, but now it’s kind of weirding me out. I apologize if it weirds you out, too.

Ashara’s first impression of Lucius was that he was a little rude. Storming up to her like that, asking when she’d be done. He was all brown skin and short black hair and brown eyes. He loomed over her, like he was unaware of his own height and size. Then again, humans always seemed so big to her.

But then when she came to give him the book, he was much more subdued. Polite, by turns animated and withdrawn, like most people she knew who were hurting somewhere, who were looking for some sort of connection. Maybe that was why she made the offer to have him come along. He just seemed - lonely.

It left her tempted to visit his dreams to see if she could find the source of it. She always wondered what other people dreamed of spontaneously. She rarely did so. Not since she was a child. And even then, she doubted how spontaneous those were - Papae always seemed to be there, from her memory. A hand on her shoulder. A sudden twist of the Fade to remove a nightmare. A warning voice when a spirit tried to deceive her. Maybe she’d never had a spontaneous dream in her life.

She wouldn’t enter Lucius’s dream though. It wasn’t right. And he was too smart. He was asking too many of the right questions about who she was - questions she wouldn’t, couldn’t answer. She didn’t know who to trust here in Tevinter, aside from Dorian and Claudia. And even though she had the sense more and more that she could trust Lucius, there was the other reason she was trying to avoid using her name - the inevitable reaction it got from strangers. The snap judgments and worship and fear and hatred (you never knew which it would be).

It was fun, being someone else. Just another elf from Enasan. Someone who only needed this for dreams. Someone whose mother wasn't dying.

The Fade was dark and close around her. She needed to stop worrying, or the fear would dominate the dream, and she wouldn't learn anything at all. So she focused on what she was looking for: old memories. As old as she could find. They came to her like songs - a dozen different melodies. She needed to tune out her own songs - _I hope Mamae is feeling better, I still can't believe what those men in the tavern said, would Lucius even want me in his bed anyway? No time for that now. Focus_ … - and then she could hear them. Happy songs, angry songs, loud ones, quiet ones. The old ones were almost always quiet, especially in a place like this. She wasn't looking for an ancient battle or a famous fete. She was looking for small moments. Everyday moments.

She knew what her father would say. “You can't always make the Fade show you what it wants. Moments of great emotion tend to persist. If you are looking for anything more, you must prepare to spend a long time looking, and to be careful of what you will find.”

She knew the wards he would tell her to set. The necessity of having someone remain at your side, prepared to keep you hydrated and to wake you by the proper means. But they would not remain here for long, and she didn't want to tip off Lucius. She would just dig down for a little while, listen patiently, and then resurface to the loud, bright songs this place contained.

It took a while to find something from the era she was looking for, and even then most of it was useless. Apparently this ruin had, at one time, been a country home, and she listened as the owners planned parties and plotted revenge and raised their children. Nothing about the surrounding area, no clues about whether or not this Fade-touched stormheart would actually do what Magister Estoris said it would - contain the Veil itself. Perhaps it was odd that Estoris even knew of it - maybe no one even knew it was in those caves.

Beyond that she could hear very little, though undoubtedly this place had once been part of Elvhenan, and must have had older memories. She waited, and waited, and she was preparing to resurface when she heard a voice.

“You are not looking in the right places, child.”

The words were spoke in Elvhen, and the spirit that appeared before her took the appearance of one of her people. Tall, well-formed, with that quality that was at once ageless and ancient, like her father. He had blond hair that stopped just short of his shoulders, and no vallaslin.

“Oh? And how do you know what I am looking for?” She raised her own mental defenses, reminded herself that she had no idea who this spirit was, even if he appeared to her in the guise of her own kin.

“You are calling it out, are you not? Digging through memory after memory repeating the words again and again? It has been a long time since I heard a Dreamer’s searching song, but any spirit as old as myself would recognize it.”

“And what kind of spirit are you?”

“A wise one.”

Careful words, carefully chosen. He did not say that he was a spirit of Wisdom. Merely that he was wise. But she had spent much of her life around spirits of all kinds, and she knew what kinds of questions to ask.

“Are you wise enough to know the answers I seek?”

“Perhaps, if you will share more of the questions.”

Not a bold enough answer for Pride. He was handsome enough, but he was not molding himself to her own personal preferences, or trying to flatter her own intelligence, so not Desire. Maybe if she challenged him -

“You called me child, but I am none. I am wise enough to know I should not trust a stranger.” She began withdrawing then, imagining herself awakening, imagining the sound of the wind in the grass and the sight of Claudia and Lucius. But they were still distant impressions - she’d gone deep on this journey - and his voice rang out clear.

“I did not call you a child because you are inexperienced or young. I called you a child because what you are really searching for is your mother - is it not? The word hums in you, the current underneath everything else you seek. Somehow, she is the reason.”

She looked at him for what she thought was a long while (it was always so hard to tell). She had never met a spirit so attuned to her abilities as a Dreamer. This was not normal. She needed to withdraw - to where, though? Where would she be if she awoke, again? With whom? Perhaps her father would know. She cast her senses for his familiar aura, but it was nowhere to be found. She was far from him. Where, though? Tevinter. When she woke she would be with - who?

“You have gone deep, child. Relax. Struggling will not make the way out any easier.”

“Who are you?” She asked.

“You can call me friend.”

“Is that your name?”

“Yes.”

A friend was a good thing. This part of the Fade was not colored with fear. It looked a bit like Enasan now. Sweeping metal and stone spires in the distance - this was some sort of spirit of Elvhenan. She would ask three questions. Three questions, and she would reach for the surface again. It was unwise to think in terms of time. It was so difficult to sense in the Fade, especially deep down here.

“Very well then, Friend. The stormheart in this area - is it special?”

One question.

“Special? In what sense?”

“Can it hold things - like magical energy?”

Two questions.

“Many things can be used as a focus. Something tells me you are referring to a more specific kind of magical energy.”

“I read that the energy of the Veil can pass through it - that it can be a guide to move it from one place to another, or even to store it.”

“Perhaps, if it was enchanted correctly. Why would you want to do such a thing?”

“An experiment.” One more question. One more question and nothing more. “Who are you?”

“I told you. I am a friend.”

If there was such a thing as a spirit of Friendship, she had not heard of it. And this spirit didn’t feel like friendship - it didn’t feel warm and soft, like a big comforter on a cloudy day. It felt - she prodded towards it and at once the sounds and sights flooded her, too much too fast, she couldn’t sort through them, everything was blurred and upside down and twisted, an owl was screeching, there were voices speaking Elvhen but she recognized none of them, none of them, until -

“Ashara - Ashara, little one, little heart - I need you to listen to me - ”

A countering flood of memories - her own, this time. The sound of the rain on the window, Mamae reading to her, Papae adjusting her grip on her staff, her favorite stuffed nug in her hands. Then stillness. The forest. The forest she’d always known. Mamae’s forest - the one Papae made for her. And Papae, standing before her, his spirit glowing bright, his eyes glowing blue, his fear vibrating the very air of the Fade. It was all lighter here, no weight of hundreds of years of memory and emotion.

“Papae - where - why -”

“Ashara, what were you doing? Who was with you? You’d gone so deep I could barely sense you - your friends have been trying to wake you for hours - what were you thinking? Where did you go?” He was shaking her. It was dizzying.

“I - I was just trying to -” The words were distant. The memories she felt when she reached for the spirit were still clanging in her mind, dissonant and harsh, nothing she could organize yet. What kind of spirit was that?

“You need to wake up. Now, Ashara. Wake up - ”

Air, cold in her lungs, soft bed beneath her, sun in her eyes - she was awake. People were around her - two she expected - Claudia and Lucius - and then -

Shit.

“What is your name?” Dorian ground out. His arms were crossed, his lip curled.

  
Ashara sighed and dropped her head into her hands. She tried to rub the sleep from her eyes, the sounds of the spirit from her mind. Was it really possible that even here, awake, her ears were ringing?

  
"Uncle, do we really -"

  
" _What_ is your name?"

  
She sighed again. She was so hungry all of the sudden, so weak. What time of day was it, anyway? "Ashara Lavellan."

  
"What is the year?"

  
"9:66 Dragon, I hope."

  
"Where are you?"

She looked around for a moment, and when her eyes flicked to Lucius her stomach dropped. She’d said her real name. Of course, everything else had to be clear by now. How else would Claudia have explained what happened, or why Dorian was here? He was watching her, a little wide-eyed, clearly trying to school his expression into something more passive. She found it hard to look at him, and looked around again instead.

  
"Some - inn it looks like. We were in a ruin last I remembered. You must have moved me." Her father was not lying. It had been hours - almost a day, even. That was the longest she’d ever stayed in the Fade.

  
"And why, pray tell, should I not send you packing back to Skyhold immediately? It's what your father will want. I assume I will be getting an angry call via crystal at any moment now. Going so deep into the Fade you forgot which way was up - did Solas teach you nothing? Why were you even out gallivanting in caves without proper protection? And _don’t_ think you're off the hook here either, Claudia." Claudia scowled at that, and crossed her arms. Before she could say anything, Ashara spoke again, her voice pleading this time.

  
"Uncle, please! I think I know how to save Mamae."

  
Dorian stopped tapping his foot at that, and dropped his own crossed arms.

  
"I found a book in the Circle library,” she went on. “An ancient magister had a theory for tearing a rift in the Veil. Sort of. He had a way he thought he could store pieces of it - move them from one place or another - I think it could be adapted to make something to save her."

  
Lucius leaned forward at that, his eyebrows creased. He was piecing things together. It was all over - the charade that she was someone else, that she did not carry this weight deep in her chest. What would he think of her now?

  
"The passages in Estoris’s book about tearing open the sky to see his lover again," Lucius said. "Ash - those were hyperbole. Poetry."

  
"Not all of them," she said. "And it's a sound theory. Combined with other theories it could work."

  
"Ash?" Dorian arched one perfect eyebrow.

  
"It - was the name I told him. Ash Ostwick."

Dorian snorted at that.

  
"Lying to people about your name and motives for wandering about the wilderness with them? Your dear father must be so proud.”

She saw his spirit again then, felt the terror and rage that radiated outward from him. She would hear about this again. Soon.

  
"It doesn’t matter," she said quietly.

  
Magister Pavus sighed. "I’m too tired for this. Dinner first. Fade theory later. Shall we?"

He breezed out of the room, and Claudia followed close behind, clearly already preparing an argument for why she was not at fault here. Ashara made a mental note to back up her case. Claudia had done nothing that Ashara herself had not asked. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, stretching out the soreness of her stiff muscles, when she saw Lucius was still standing in the door. Their eyes met, and for a moment there was silence.

“It would appear introductions are in order,” he said dryly. Then he bowed without dropping his eyes. “Lucius Talvas of Vyrantium.”

It shouldn’t burn, that mockery. Not from someone she barely knew. She swallowed the burn down, and inclined her head.

“Ashara Lavellan.”

He turned and went downstairs, and Ashara followed, still feeling light with hunger and confusion - and hope, too, that perhaps she was at last on the right track.

*

Solas came awake quickly from his dream - quickly enough that it was temporarily disorienting. He’d reached deep into his command of the Fade to find Ashara, drawn on power he had not used in many years. His mind was still fogged with the effort - and with the fear - until he felt the hand on his cheek.

“Vhenan?”

Ellana, crouched over him - the most steadying sight he knew. His mate. He leaned into her palm, the cold touch of her silverite wedding ring further anchoring him to the waking world.

“All is well,” he said. His throat was unexpectedly dry. Time could be difficult to gauge in the Fade. Conversations that seemed to last a half an hour could have taken all night. “How long?”

“All day. Here - eat. Drink.”

He barely noticed what he was eating as he sorted through his impressions. Ordinarily finding Ashara in the Fade was easy, instinctive, even. The great physical distance between them posed no challenge, for him at least. The depths to which she’d gone were a different story - he’d had to sift past many other layers of memory and emotion to sense her. But even that should not have taken him all day - something else was in the way - perhaps someone else. Her own aura was smothered under the weight of another’s, so heavy he had to push and pull to reach her - was it another Dreamer? But who? And why?

He was puzzling through it when he caught sight of Ellana, her grey eyes still wide, and remembered that he was not alone in this. He took her hand.

“All is well, ma sa’lath. Ashara will be fine. Something interfered in my search, though why I do not know. She must have found a particularly powerful spirit - or another Dreamer.”

Ellana took the information in with a nod, but the worry was still etched on her face. She lifted the crystal that still hung around her neck.

“Dorian - is it true? She’s awake?”

The crystal crackled to life - when Dorian’s voice came through it was hard to hear. Wherever they were, it was crowded.

“Yes, she’s awake and seems perfectly fine, if a little disoriented. I will have her use the crystal to speak to you later. Right now she says she wants to share with us what she’s learned. She may have found something in some journal while I was away.”

Solas’s skin felt tighter at those words.

“Away?” He asked. He was too far from the crystal for Dorian to hear, but Ellana responded.

“Yes - he went to Qarinus for a short while. I told you, didn’t I?”

“So Ashara was alone in Minrathous?”

“Not alone - she was with Claudia. Why do you look so angry?”

Dorian cleared his throat.

“Oh dear. Only married six months and the honeymoon’s already over. I’ll just be going now. Ashara will call later.”

The crystal went dim, and Solas found he’d lost his appetite.

“I told you something like this would happen,” he said, pushing the tray of food away. He half expected resistance from Ellana, but she just slumped back against her pillows. From the rumpled state of the covers and the scattered books, she’d been there all day.

“I know,” she said. “I feared it would, too.”

“She needs to come home.”

“She needs to learn how to be on her own.”

“Not like this. She could have -” Ellana took his hand again. “She needs to come home.”

“I know, love. I miss her too. Every day.”

He pressed her hand. Another thought came to him through the clearing fog of his mind.

“How have you been today? Did you need me at all?”

“I’ve been fine.”

He knew it was a lie. He could see by the stiff way she moved when she shifted closer to him. She was in pain. She was always in pain now. The green veins of energy that criss-crossed her back made sure of that.

“Come here,” he said. She moved closer to him and he put his hands on her face and leaned their foreheads together. The moment he attuned his senses to it, he could feel the magic radiating around her, an unsteady, seething pulse. It was a little like wrestling with an animal, getting it to recede, to beat more slowly in her skin. It took him longer now than it did before, when they first realized that the energy was no longer dormant, and as he worked he ran his hands down her shoulders and her arms and then back up again. When he was done he could feel the tension melt out of her, and he kissed her forehead like it was the final seal against the doom inside her.

“We probably have a little while until Ashara uses the crystal. A bath always makes you feel better,” he said.

“And would you join me in said bath?” She was tired, he could see it, but there was still a flicker of warmth in her eyes, a little quirk in her lips.

“In whatever capacity you desired.”

“Perhaps Dorian was wrong about the honeymoon.”

He hoped, as he always did, that she was right.

*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ellana and Solas weren't going to show up so quickly in my original draft, but I decided I missed them! We'll see progressively more and more from them as the fic goes on. I'm still not sure if there's enough of them to warrant adding it to the Relationships tag (have I mentioned that tags scare me?) yet, though. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/)!


	5. If and When*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter is long. But after this I feel like everything is set up for where the rest of the fic goes, and there is Solavellan smut at the end for you! (Just don’t read the section that starts with a double asterisk ** if that's not your thing!)

Magister Pavus managed to get them a private dining room at the inn, and immediately ordered the best bottle of wine they had on hand. Lucius floated more than walked to the seat he chose, still hardly able to believe whose company he was sharing. There was no chance the magister would take on another apprentice, even with Claudia so close to attaining the rank of Enchanter, but this was still the perfect opportunity to make an impression. Dorian Pavus was a powerful friend to have. He would not get another opportunity like this. He made sure to offer to keep the older man’s wineglass full, which earned him a chuckle.

“You do seem to have good taste in friends, Ash,” he said, though there was a bit of a jeering tone to the way he said the name. Ashara, for her part, rolled her eyes.

“Do you want to hear my idea or not?”

“Testy, testy. You’d think you’d be in a better mood after sleeping for almost an entire day. First I have to ask your new friend something. You are from Vyrantium you say? And you are now a student in the Minrathous Circle?”

“That is correct,” Lucius said.

“Do you have a patron of your own?”

“No - well - the reason I was out with Claudia and Ashara was because Magister Corix sent me on an errand. I am hopeful that he will take me on when I return.”

“Corix? Really?” His eyebrows went up. “How old are you, Lucius?”

“Twenty-four.” Lucius hoped the dim lighting hid the color rising in his cheeks.

“Ah. And I’d imagine you’re a Laetan, like Claudia?”

“That is correct.”

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers. It’s not as if he’s an evil man, just a - what is the polite way to say this? A boring one. No sense of originality. He’s like a piece of toast that came to life. Never mind that, though. I wish you luck attaining his patronage. I am comfortable having you here for this discussion so long as Ashara is.”

They both looked at her then. She looked more alert than she had just a couple of minutes before. She locked eyes with him and he felt pinned to the spot, like she could actually hold him with her gaze alone. Questions bubbled up immediately to the surface of his mind, a dozen things he wanted to ask her all at once. Maybe that showed on his face. Maybe she saw something else entirely, but she nodded then.

“I am.”

He wondered what had changed between the night before, when she’d only been willing to share a small piece of what was happening, and now. Maybe he would get a chance to ask her later.

“Very well then - what have you found?” Magister Pavus said.

“Actually,” Lucius broke in. “Can I ask - what is exactly is wrong with your mother?” He still couldn’t quite say the name Ellana Lavellan without feeling absurd, so he directed the question at Ashara. She took another drink of her own wine before answering.

“It’s the power of the Anchor - the power that let her seal the rifts and stop Corypheus. It’s always been harmful to her, ever since the day she got it. My father bought her time when he removed the Anchor itself, but the power it granted has always lingered. Now there’s just too much of it inside of her, and no way to get it out. It’s burning her up. Sapping her strength. It has been for several years now.”

“Isn’t it just magical energy? What makes it so difficult to remove or release it?”

Magister Pavus jumped in at that.

“Put simply, the power in Ellana is the power of the Veil itself. It’s not pure mana, like what any mage has inside them, which is constantly waiting to be shaped by the mage’s intent. It already has a form and a purpose - to separate the Fade from the land of the living. Have you ever wondered why the Veil thins but never truly breaks?”

The truth was that he had never considered it - the Veil just _was_ , like water - but he didn’t want to appear uninquisitive.

“I have always wondered why there was never such a thing as a rift until Corypheus, yes.”

“The Veil is, for lack of a better term, self-repairing. It is attracted to its own energy. Any number of forces may try to push the energy aside - spirits, Rift mages - but they can never overcome the attraction it has for itself. That is absolute. It’s even self-regenerating - it’s constantly producing more of itself, in order to stay stable. So even though Solas removed the Anchor from Ellana’s body, there was still enough loose energy in her body that it began to generate more, and the little pockets became attracted to each other and began producing more, and more - it took nearly twenty years, but it has begun to grow exponentially.”

Most of Magister Pavus’s words were filled with the animation of any mage who enjoyed discussing theories of magic, but his last words were tinged with sorrow. Lucius glanced at Ashara and saw it echoed on her face. The same look he’d seen the past two days.

“We’ve been faced with two main problems so far,” Magister Pavus continued. “One: without the Anchor, there’s no way for Ellana to consciously release the power, the way she used to. That’s why this problem didn’t become apparent until we’d sealed every damned rift in Thedas. Two: even when we’ve tried to draw it out of her, it has caused her enormous pain. It appears to have bonded to her body as a host on a very deep level.”

“That’s exactly what I think my idea could fix,” Ashara said at last. “Magister Estoris imagined being able to create a sort of siphon to move the Veil from one place to another continuously enough and quickly enough that it would open what we would call a rift. He wanted to use the Veil’s own attraction against itself by making it more attracted to some other place, rather than the one where he was standing. The energy moves freely through her body, just as the energies of the Veil move freely around the world, so the movement isn’t the problem - it’s that it has been warped to think its purpose is to remain within her body. Imagine if we’re not removing the energy from Mamae’s body - instead we’re just tricking it into moving somewhere else.”

“Into this - siphon?”

“Yes. We’ll have to go beyond what Estoris envisioned, but if the Fade-touched stormheart can in fact be enchanted to contain the power of the Veil as theorized, and if we can find some other enchantment to attract it there - something that makes it think it’s still just moving around inside her body, where it thinks it belongs - couldn’t that work?”

The barkeep entered then, followed by serving girls, with the roasted duck and vegetables that Magister Pavus had ordered for them. Lucius would’ve liked to say that that explained away the silence that fell over the table, but he knew already that it wasn’t. Even coming late into this conversation, even having only heard these theories for the first time tonight, he knew how it sounded.

“That’s a lot of ifs, Ashara,” Claudia said quietly when the barkeep and serving girls were gone.

“I know that,” Ashara replied. “But it’s a better lead than any we’ve had in the last three years.”

There was an urgency in her tone, a pleading note that Lucius recognized as desperation. She made sense to him now. What wouldn’t he have done, if there had been some way to save Erast? His parents?

“Well, Claudia tells me you have the stormheart, so I suppose the next step is to determine how to enchant it to contain the power of the Veil. Have you considered veridium as well, given that Ellana remembers seeing it in the raw Fade at the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

  
“That may work even better - Estoris might not have known of that connection,” Claudia added.

“Does he say much about how to perform the enchantment?”

Lucius saw his chance.

“Well - no, actually. I read the same book,” he said. “That’s how Ashara and I met. Magister Estoris is a distant relative of mine. As I said earlier, I don’t think he ever actually tested any of this. He was grieving the loss of his lover, and writing poetically about being able to do something like this. Maybe there’s some truth behind the poetry, but it’s hard to say. It would take time to figure out what was true and what was false.”

“You know who we need?” Magister Pavus said suddenly. “Our dear, pyrotechnic loving friend Dagna. She’s simply the most gifted arcanist I’ve ever known. If anyone could make sense of that book, or of this theory, it would be her.”

“You’re right. I haven’t seen her in years, though. I don’t even think my parents have. I’ll ask them when I speak to them tonight.”

Lucius wanted to jump in again, but hesitated. What did he truly have to offer here that Magister Pavus or Claudia couldn’t? He was an incidental part of all of this, in the right place at the right time. If Ashara hadn’t gotten lost in the Fade (or whatever it was that happened to her), forcing Claudia to reveal her secret, she would probably never have told him any of this.

That shouldn't have hurt, and yet it did.

It was a silly thing to feel, he told himself as they finished their dinner with idle chatter. He had the hearts, and soon they would return to Minrathous, and all would be well.

*

The plan was to leave for Minrathous as soon as possible, but they still technically had time with the room they had rented, and Dorian told Ashara she needed to talk to her parents first.

“I won't be held responsible for making them wait on pins and needles for you,” he said when he handed the crystal over. “Go back upstairs - it's quieter there.”

Ashara’s stomach was in knots as she ascended the stairs. She tried to reason with herself. Nothing happened. If anything, they would probably be more interested in her potential solution for the power of the Anchor. And if anything else, they would be worried. Not angry. (But was worried worse?)

“Savhalla?” She said into the crystal. A moment of silence followed, and then the answer.

“An'eth'ara,” her mother’s voice responded. Good - she sounded relaxed. Calm. “Anything you’d care to tell us?”

So her father was there. She wished she could see them - not just because she missed them, but because it was always so much easier to tell what to expect. Mamae was obvious in most of her feelings, at least around her daughter. Her father was a closed book to most people, but she’d learned his tells over time. What were either of them thinking or feeling now?

“I have a theory of how to save you,” she said, tentatively. Another moment of silence.

“Go on.” Still Mamae’s voice.

She shared with them what she’d shared at dinner, and they listened quietly the entire time. It left her feeling more nervous than before. Were they angry? She certainly felt guilty for having caused them to worry. Worry could spill over into angry. Who knew how long it had taken her father to find her in the Fade? We're they going to demand she return to Skyhold?

“What do you think, vhenan?” Her mother asked when Ashara’s explanation was done.

“It’s possible in a theoretical sense, though I fear what kind of enchantment it would require to believe it's still just moving around within your mother.” Her father’s voice was calm and even, but that told her nothing.

“Agreed,” her mother added. “Now - what exactly happened in the Fade?”

Ashara shared her impressions with them, right down to the elf who’d appeared to her at the end.

“I did everything I could,” she added hastily. “I kept reminding myself that I needed to awaken, of where I’d be and who I’d be with - I tried to figure out what kind of spirit it was - I gave myself a limited number of questions before I would pull away - I still don't know why none of it worked.”

“The - spirit - you saw. What did he look like?” Papae asked.

“Elvhen, like you. But with blond hair down to his shoulders. Brown eyes. Nothing really all that noticeable about him, honestly.”

A thoughtful silence.

“Be very cautious if you see him again. With how well hidden you were, it would appear he was warping the Fade around you. It may not have been a spirit at all, but another Dreamer.”

“An Elvhen Dreamer we’ve never met?” Ashara asked.

“It does not sound like he resembles anyone we have met, no. But if he is a Dreamer, he could be disguising his appearance. Just - be careful, da’vhenan. Please.”

The anxiety Ashara felt slid further away at the sound of the pet name. In its place was the feeling she’d tried to deny for six months - that though she’d begged to leave home, to see the world, to find a way to save her mother - she missed them terribly every day. She wanted to go home. To sink back into old routines. To feel a little more like a child again. No. Not yet. Not until she’d seen her idea through.

“I will, Papae. Always. I think we need to leave for Minrathous soon. Oh! And I need to find out how to contact Dagna. I want to ask her opinion on all of this.”

Her mother sighed. “I’ll have to look back through my correspondence. Sera never writes, and I can't really remember the last time Dagna did… but I think they still live somewhere in Orlais. I’ll figure it out.”

“Ma serannas, Mamae.”

“Ma nuvenin, da’asha. Be safe. I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Both of you. Sule sal harthir.”

As always when she saw the crystal go dim, a dozen new thoughts sprang into her head. She hadn't asked how Mamae was feeling, and only two days before Papae said she hadn't even been able to leave bed - she hadn't apologized for causing them to worry - she hadn't told them about Lucius, or the fight with the wyverns - it must have shown on her face a little when she returned to the others, because Dorian asked immediately.

“Are they sending agents to dispatch me for negligence? Are they going to whisk you back to Skyhold?” She snorted at his paranoia, but then he dropped his voice a little. “Is all well with your mother?”

“No to the first two and yes to the last. Let’s get going.”

“Very well then. I hired a coach to get here - you are all welcome to it.”

The coach was more comfortable than horseback, but it did have one unfortunate drawback - the close quarters with Lucius.

She saw it now. The same face she saw with most strangers. The staring. The wary gaze. Except this time it was worse. This time he wasn’t really a stranger - but not really a friend. This time she’d lied about who she was. She was not the kind of person who was given to lying - certainly not often. She was no good at it for the most part. She hated the sick feeling it left her with, especially now.

She wanted desperately to talk to him about it. To explain herself. But she didn’t want Dorian and Claudia involved. So her thoughts followed the same circle the entire journey back to the city of ancient wonders, and her good-bye to him was short, but she watched him as he entered the Circle’s complex, made note of which entrance he used. She would find him again. She would explain. And, soon enough, she would go home.

*

Magister Corix’s Minrathous home was not far from the Circle, thankfully. Lucius went there immediately after breakfast, enchanted box clutched proudly in hand - only to find out that the Magister was not quite the early riser that he was.

“You could always come back later,” the elven servant who answered the door said disdainfully.

“I’d really prefer to wait here, if that’s acceptable. It doesn’t matter how long.”

“As you wish, ser.”

The servant was so much - smaller than Ashara. And yet so much more haughty, despite the fact that she was a servant, and not the daughter of two of the most famous Thedosians alive. Thoughts like that kept flitting through Lucius’s mind, though he tried not to entertain them. There would be no reason to see her again. He would be busy now with Magister Corix, discussing next steps in his own research and progress towards becoming Enchanter, making the necessary introductions in society. His brother Erast would have hated the room he was waiting in. The whole house, really. He was always the rough and tumble sort, more at home outside than inside. Lucius still remembered the countless times he’d been sent out at dusk to fetch him home. Would he have outgrown that by now? Would he be proud that his older brother had magic, that he would soon be apprenticed to a Magister?

The sound of a door slamming interrupted the thoughts, and sent panic racing through his veins instead. Then the elven servant reappeared.

“Magister Corix will see you now.”

All things considered, Magister Pavus wasn’t far off when he said Corix was like a piece of toast come to life. The man was likely younger than Dorian Pavus, but he radiated none of the energy, none of the life. He looked like he was already dried out and ready to be blown away by a stiff wind. But Lucius made sure to act as if he was the most magnetic person in the world, the most interesting, when he presented the wyvern hearts.

“Oh - so you did succeed.” Corix was more surprised than Lucius was comfortable with. “Three hearts instead of one. Interesting.”

How was he supposed to respond?

“Yes - I was pleased it worked out that way.”

“I only needed the one, but I suppose I’ll keep the other two. Did you do this on your own?”

Lucius’s heart was dropping fast. Did he lie, or no? It would be all too easy for Corix to figure out the lie. The truth it was.

“Fortunately, I was able to seek help from Claudia Naevar, Dorian Pavus’s apprentice. And -” Frozen again. Was Ashara’s lie his to keep, or no?

Corix noticed the hesitation. "And the elf he's sheltering, too?"

  
"Yes."

  
For the first time, Corix was actually listening.

  
"You mean Ashara Lavellan?"

  
Last chance - did he deny it or confirm it? If Corix had not really been listening before...

  
"Yes."

  
"Tell me - why did those two choose to join you on this expedition of yours?"

  
"They also needed something from the caves. Stormheart, I think it was. It was - convenient for all of us."

  
"Stormheart? Any particular reason?"

  
Another half-truth, something, anything to keep him listening.

  
"An experiment, they said. I did not pry."

Corix nodded, and for a moment grew far away again. Then he spoke once more.

  
"You say you did not pry. Did you grow close to either of them? Part on cordial terms?"

  
"I would say so, yes."

  
"Excellent. For your first task as my apprentice, I want you to maintain that friendship. Deepen it, if at all possible. If you find out anything at all about Pavus, about the girl, and especially anything about her parents, come to me at once. You do know who her parents are, don't you?"

  
"I do."

  
"Then you know nothing she says or does can be trusted. Whatever 'experiment' she claims to be running can mean nothing good for the Imperium. I'd say I don't know what Pavus is thinking, bringing her here and hoping no one will notice or realize who she is, but I've always known what that Qunari-fucking deviant wants: the destruction of everything the Imperium stands for."

  
Should he speak then? Correct Corix? Assure him that it was, in fact, a purely personal matter? Defend Magister Pavus? Bring up the matter of his own research, the plans for sponsoring him to the rank of Enchanter? But Corix was already ringing the bell for the servant, and he was already standing outside once more. Too late. There'd be another time. It didn't ease away the disappointment that sat like a stone in his gut all the way back to the Circle. He'd have to find out where exactly Pavus's house was. That's probably where Ashara was staying. She did seem to like him well enough. But was Corix right? Could he even trust what she had said the experiment was for? The pain and hope in her eyes seemed so honest...

  
When he saw Ashara standing outside his door, he did a double-take. Surely he was just thinking about her so intently that he _thought_ he saw her. No, it truly was her.  Blue eyes and brown skin and curly hair and all.

  
"I asked where your room was - I haven't been waiting long - I wanted to apologize," she said, more or less all at once.

  
"Oh?" He managed. He thought quickly about his face, his posture. Was he giving anything away?

  
"I'm sorry I lied about who I was. I - could I come in and explain?"

  
Perhaps the Maker was merciful after all. Here she was, in his spare, nearly empty room, feeling apologetic. He had the upper hand. He could get closer to her. Pass on whatever Corix needed. This was how things worked here. This was how he got to where he was meant to be.

  
"When we spoke the other day, it sounded like you didn't think much of my parents,” Ashara said as she paced a slow circle around his room. “I - can understand that. My whole life I've been around people who outright hated them - or worshipped them. I still can't decide which is worse. But - can't you see that it's exactly why I can't run around telling everyone who I am?"

  
Wide blue eyes stared at him. Imploring. She was the best liar he'd ever met - or she was not lying.

  
He agreed with her. But was it best to say that he did?

  
"I can see that, yes. I'll admit it was a shock. I can't imagine being related to someone who did the things Fen'Harel did."

  
She ducked her head. Laughed dryly. "For starters, I don't think of him as Fen'Harel. It isn't his name, you know."

  
"Then how do you think of him?"

  
"As Papae, of course. As the man who used to carry me on his shoulders. Who read me to sleep at night. Who braided my hair. Who taught me to walk the Fade."

  
The images were irreconcilable. A man who loved his daughter like any good father - and the man in whose name his brother was killed.

  
"It was hard for me to find out some of the things he'd done," she continued. "I can see how others only see him that way."

“Indeed.”

Now she was quiet, no longer pacing but standing there looking at him. She was waiting for some kind of reaction, he guessed. What could he say? Something friendly, something to keep the conversation going -

  
"It must be incredible to shape the Fade,” he said finally. Her face brightened.

  
"It is. I could show you sometime, if you liked."

  
"Really?"

  
"It's not hard. With your permission, I'll find you in the Fade and take you somewhere. I've found some interesting memories here in Minrathous."

The thought excited him - even if all of this was just for Corix. Even if it was better that he didn’t actually become her friend.

  
"I'd like that - I think."

  
"Good. I'd like it too. I'd like it if we were friends. It's been - difficult to find friends here. I don't know who to trust. But I think I can trust you."

  
The stone in his stomach was back.

  
"I will strive to be trustworthy."

  
"Good," she said, and her smile was like the sun.

  
*

  
Ashara found that most people were easier to read in the Fade. Even mages well versed in defending themselves from demons were still a little more unguarded than they were in waking. Lucius was no exception.

  
He was dreaming of a small shop when she found him, of a young boy she realized quickly must have been his brother. They were playing. Lucius was younger, too - perhaps thirteen. The only odd thing she saw was a heavy stone in Lucius's hand, so heavy he struggled to move it as he played, though he did not let it go. She hesitated to end the memory there, nearly turned around and approached him another night, but then he turned and saw her.

  
"Is it - really you, Ash?"

  
"It is. Is this your brother?"

  
"Yes." But the boy was gone now. "Do you actually go by Ash?"

  
"Not really. It doesn't make sense as a nickname in Elvhen. My name is the words 'asha' and 'ara' put together. If anything, you'd call me one of those, but that wouldn't make much sense either..." she was babbling for no reason. She reigned herself in. "Shall we? What do you want to see?"

  
"What can we see?"

  
They settled on a memory of ancient Tevinter, something fairly simple, and everyday, and that was when she really saw it. The wonder on his face, the excitement. He was funny, she realized. He made jokes about the things they saw, translated the dirty words he heard passersby saying. Bumped his shoulder against hers when teasing her. It would have been a nearly perfect night, one of the best she'd spent in the Fade in a while, if she had not been hearing the voice in the back of her mind. Softly spoken Elvhen. _What are you searching for, child?_ Was it a memory, a refraction of the powerful feeling she brushed up against when she reached out to the spirit - or was he calling again?

  
Even after she and Lucius parted ways, she heard it. Not a real pull, not a demon trying to draw her in. Just a faint call. An invitation. She thought about seeking her father and telling him, but changed her mind. It was nearly morning. Perhaps it would never happen again. If it did, that would be the time to tell him. So instead she let herself wake to her soft new bed and a smile and the promise of more progress to be made.

**

Ellana had invited Solas to join her in her bath with every intention of using the time to enjoy his body as she hadn’t in - how long was it now? A month? Two? - and she would have, if it hadn’t been for the damned mirror.

He was heating the water for the bath while she undressed, and that’s when she caught sight of herself. Tired eyes, body ragged with scars, and the sickly green glow behind her. She shuddered and slipped into the bath as quickly as she could after that. As if he hadn’t seen all of it before. Living with someone for more than twenty years led to a great deal of incidental nudity, something that did not change when she got sick. Every day she undressed so he could examine the growth of the marks on her back. So, realistically, he saw her naked every day - but when was the last time he’d undressed her slowly, like she was a present being unwrapped, and actually looked at her with desire in his eyes? It was a thought that came to her more and more often now.

“You are very quiet, sa’lath,” Solas said. “Are you still worried about Ashara?”

Yes, that worry was there, buzzing in the back of her skull. But she trusted both Solas and Dorian when they said she was fine, and she knew Ashara would call soon. What could she do to fix the fact that she was old, and sick, and lying with her back pressed against her mate’s naked body, afraid to tell him that she wanted him, because how could he want her back?

“A little. I’m tired, is all.”

“That is not surprising. Rest. I have the crystal here - I will wake you if she calls.” He punctuated the words with a kiss to her temple and she let her eyes slide closed. By the time the water cooled, and they rose and dressed, she’d pushed the feeling away. It was a silly thing to worry about. Being attractive. Not when there was so much else going on. Like dying.

That was the kind of thought that floated in her mind after they spoke to their daughter, when she was half-asleep beside Solas’s still form. _I’m dying_ . It rarely brought her to hysterics. She’d been convinced more or less every day since she fell out of the sky at Haven that her days were numbered. She’d enjoyed a brief reprieve from the feeling in the years when Ashara was young, when there was no war, and no sign that the Anchor’s energy was active. But on the day that she and Solas realized the mark was in fact growing, consuming her, the thought sidled in like nothing so much as an old friend. _Well, I’m dying again_.

But this - she’d never felt this way before. She was never a vain woman, but she’d never been insecure in her body either. What did she do about this feeling? Was it frivolous even to express it, when she saw the fear and sadness in Solas’s eyes every day when his experiments did not work to contain or remove the energy? When he constantly worried about their daughter, far away in Tevinter?

Then this was something she’d have to solve on her own. She rose from their bed and crossed to the mirror, shedding her sleeping tunic on the way so she was naked. She would just have to look again. Look until she could make the feeling go away, until she could make her body feel like it was her own again. It was the same mirror she’d used more than twenty years ago - the first time she’d truly been able to see the reflection of her whole body. Then she’d been a thing carved of muscle and hardship, flecked with fewer scars. She’d had two strong arms. Now -

She was still trim enough, true, but her stomach was softer, and lined with stretch marks (which were, admittedly, the best kind of scar). Her left arm was a scarred stump. There were lines around her eyes (although, again, she knew she should not complain - she had fewer than other women her age). She looked tired. And worst of all, of course - her back. If she twisted she could just see it. The glowing green lines, like her skin itself was cracking apart. The alien energy slowly eating her alive.

The covers behind her rustled, and she turned to see Solas sitting up.

“Admiring yourself?” Solas’s tone was light, but she’d known him long enough to know he was making it light. She reached for her tunic to cover herself as he rose from the bed and approached, but he pushed it away. “No. I would admire you, too.”

He was directly behind her, pressed close enough that she could feel the heat of him through his own tunic. Now she could study him in the mirror, too. He had not changed at all, of course. Not a bit. He was the same handsome man she’d stare at when she thought no one was looking on long journeys through Thedas. And she was older. Different. When he bent and kissed her neck, she looked away from the mirror.

“What is it, ma’asha?” He asked then.

“I don't look the way I used to.”

“That is true. And?” His fingers traced lines across her belly, up to her ribs.

“You look just the same.”

“Also true. And?” He cupped the underside of her breasts, and kissed the other side of her neck.

“I’m so - battered up and tired and - fenhedis, I’m getting old. I’m already older than my parents ever were.”

“And?”

Irritation flashed through her, and brought more heat to her next words.

“Do you want me to spell it out? Fine. I’m not attractive or desirable anymore. How could you still want me?”

That made him go still, at last. He met her eyes in the mirror.

“Is that why you have not been so - amorous, lately?”

So he had noticed the same thing she had. There was no point in dancing around it anymore, then.

“Well, you hadn't exactly been very amorous either. I figured you saw it too.”

Now his face fell.

“Ir abelas, vhenan. I never meant to make you doubt yourself. With how tired you have been, and with how much pain you face - I assumed you needed rest more than pleasure. Can I remedy this now?”

Normally the thought would have made her shiver, brought the first bloom of arousal to her body, but she still couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in her limbs. He was only saying this now because he felt sorry for her. Still - there was nothing to do but try.

“Of course.”

He kissed her ear, gently pressed her breasts in his hands. “A moment.” His breath ghosted across her skin and she shivered.

There was a heavy scraping sound behind her, and she saw he was dragging something - a chair - and then disrobing. Then he stood behind her again, warm skin against warm skin, wrapped his arms around her.

“First of all, I do not desire you simply because I find you beautiful. This morning I woke up and saw your face and where I saw the lines I saw the times you have smiled.” He was kissing her absently, cheek and jaw and ear and neck. His hands were on her shoulders, and sliding down now. “When I see your arms I think of how they have held me. Of how graceful you were when you fought. How graceful you still are.” His hand trailed across her stomach. “When I see these lines here I remember when you carried our child. When I see all of this, remember everything we’ve shared, how can I not want you, my heart?”

His _voice_. So low, so gentle. The hum of it along her skin. The honest truth of his words. The heaviness of her limbs was dissipating. And now he pressed against her and she could feel the length of him, already half-hard.

“But, you said you don't see yourself as beautiful anymore, so let me say this too. You’re still so beautiful that I want to make love to you here where I can see every inch of you, every moment of pleasure that crosses your face. Will you let me?”

She nodded. Now the anticipation was building - now she was feeling the way she had before.

The hand on her stomach went lower, until he was cupping her between her legs. His other hand explored breast and thigh and hip and against her ear he whispered all the things he loved about them, all the things he wanted to do, until she was rocking restlessly between his hand and the growing hardness behind her.

“I love when you do that, haurasha. I love how your body responds, and how mine responds in turn. I love how we’re connected, you and I - and I’m not even inside you yet.”

One finger slid along her slit now, coaxing but not entering. Her head tipped backwards against his shoulder and her eyes slid closed at the pleasure building where his finger rubbed, how it sparked the need for more, more, more as her body swelled.

“Please -”

“Look, first.”

She opened her eyes and watched when he spread back the folds of her sex and began rubbing the tender place at the top in slow, measured circles. She watched how his pupils grew wider at the sight, as her own chest rose and fell faster, as her stomach tightened at that first wave of climax - as he drew away.

“Now - now I can't resist you anymore.”

He sat down on the chair and she watched when he took hold of his cock, already thick and straining and wet at the top, and guided her onto it, watched as it slid into her, slowly, as she sheathed him, and the more he disappeared the more she felt him, every inch.

“Oh, haurasha…” He splayed his hands, one over her stomach and one on her breast, and though he didn't say anything else, she saw it in his eyes, more real than any words. How much he loved her, this, her body as it rose and fell and coated him in slick. How it shuddered when he held her still and resumed his quick circles on her bud, then traced the shape she knew well, the one that preceded the gentle buzzing current over her sensitive flesh - the current that always brought her crashing down, that made her cunt bear down hard on his cock over and over like she would hold him there forever as she came and came.

When the haze cleared and she could see herself in the mirror again, it was with different eyes. It was the same body. Nothing had changed there. But it was hers. Hers to enjoy for as long as she could.

“See?” Solas said then, sweeping one hand along her torso as her breathing stilled. “Beautiful.”

His hips flexed upward, and that was when she realized he was still hard.

“Oh,” she managed, feeling him twitch.

“Again?” He asked softly, and kissed her shoulder. She could feel the magic there flare at the touch. She was tired, it was true. So tired. Her muscles were limp. But now she had him, and she did not want this to end.

“Again,” she said.

Ellana watched him kneel between her legs and lave his tongue over every sensitive inch of her until she was shaking again, until the only thing she could feel was his lips closed tight around her pearl as she ground against him and came in long hard waves, but when he rose she did too, pushing him onto the chair. This time she faced away from the mirror when she sank down on him, so all she could see were his eyes, and the way he bit down on his lip when she rode him just hard enough that he was close but not over the edge. That way when he finally fell, when he grabbed her hips so hard she thought she would bruise, when he tipped his head back and let out a choked cry, she could see every twitch, every gasp, as he emptied himself in her. There were no words after that. No need for them. Their bodies spoke enough - foreheads touched, lips and hands caressed, sweat cooled, his seed was warm between her thighs when she stood. This was still her body - still her life - there was still time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo I apologize if that was too sappy. I’ve wanted to write about this idea of Ellana feeling insecure as she ages and Solas doesn’t but I’m still not sure if it came out well at all.
> 
> Next, you can expect to see Bull and the Chargers, another visit from Ashara’s mysterious Fade friend, and more adventures for Claudia, Lucius, and Ashara! Thank you as always for reading/leaving kudos and comments - they make my day!
> 
> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/).


	6. Patterns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not edited as carefully as usual - I apologize in advance!

“Are you reading that dusty old thing again?” Lucius asked.

Ashara closed the dusty old thing in question with a huff.

“Yes. This dusty old thing was written by your ancestor, you know. You should show more respect.”

Claudia rolled her eyes. This was the pattern lately. She liked patterns, order, and structure. The past six months of having Ashara in Minrathous hadn't followed one. The elf bounced back and forth between hours of silent, solitary study and then sudden invitations to go out and see the city. Well, more like demands. But polite ones. Claudia had known her on and off for several years, but never very well - the elf was three years younger, and they only ever met at semi-official functions and parties that brought Dorian south and Ashara’s family north. Now that she'd spent more time with her, she knew the best way to describe her: she was like a tide, and before you know it, she’d take you out to sea.

That was the new pattern. All three of them met in the library, and even though Claudia was still conducting research into necromancy as her training progressed, and Lucius always had something to do for Corix, by noon they were sitting around discussing her latest idea, and a while after that, they were teasing each other idly.

“I’m starved,” Lucius said then. Another pattern - by that time one of them inevitably realized they hadn't eaten anything.

“We could go back to the house,” Ashara said. “Dorian will want to hear what we found about the potential for making an alloy of veridium and stormheart.”

“Sounds good to me,” Claudia replied.

Lucius nodded tightly. He never actually said anything when someone suggested they go to Dorian’s house. She knew it had to be hard. Having no money and so much pride.

Still, all things considered, he wasn’t as bad as she thought he would be. He’d been a closed off person as long as she knew him. But now he was caught in Ashara’s tide, and he was no longer quite so closed off. He had a good sense of humor, and a quick mind. There were still some mysteries left - like that particular afternoon, when they were walking down one of Minrathous’s long, cobbled streets, and a shopkeeper heaved a bag of something onto the road beside him and Lucius flinched. Visibly. His stride faltered and he fell behind.

“Lucius?” Ashara fell behind, too, putting her hand on his elbow. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Ashara walked close to him the rest of the way to Dorian’s. With anyone else, Claudia might have assumed that there was something between them, but Ashara seemed to be given to casual touch. It was cultural, as far as Claudia could tell. Ashara also took her by the wrist when guiding her out of the way of a spill in the kitchen.

They didn’t trouble the servants to get anything for them, scrounging together a variety of meats, cheeses, and fruits to take with them to the spacious inner courtyard instead. There they ate, and continued conversations from earlier in the day, until Ashara grew so animated discussing how the enchantment could work that she knocked over a plate, then caught it (mostly) with a swift barrier.

“You know, your pattern for casting that isn’t very stable,” Lucius commented.

“It’s not the pattern. I’ve just never been good with spirit magic.”

“Have you ever tried a different one?”

“I’ve tried many, but never with any particular regularity.”

“Well, then. Give it a shot.”

Claudia enjoyed watching people, and the two of them were no exception. There was something undeniably different about Ashara’s magic - for one thing, it was near constant, whether she was warming or cooling herself, or just curiously reaching out to something or someone, often to one of them, like she was communicating. It did not follow the particular, prescribed geometric patterns that both she and Lucius knew from their training in the Circle. Sometimes she cast a barrier with a circular motion, and other times with a flick of her wrist. It was - improvisational. Which was leading to the argument in front of her now.

“I respect that you say you are sensitive to changes in the Fade, to what works in the moment, but a barrier is a barrier! Maybe this won't always be the most perfect or easy way, but it will be stable!”

“It doesn't feel natural. If it doesn't feel natural, it won't work.”

“It already isn’t working!”

They weren't really angry at each other. It brought warmth to Claudia’s chest. This felt right.

“What is all this shouting about barriers? They have to be about the least exciting debate you could be having right now.” Dorian, entering with a practiced flourish, with papers in his hand.

“You would say that,” Ashara said. “Mamae says you were the one who was constantly in need of healing because you never cast any.”

“How many times must I tell you not to listen to your mother’s vicious lies? Speaking of which, she just called me via crystal on my way home. She says Dagna responded to her letter and they are currently living in Val Chevin, and would be delighted to help with your plan.”

“Oh, that's good news. How long would it take to get there?”

“Ten days or so - though most of that would be spent getting to Nevarra. How I wish our peace deal with your father hadn't required him to remove the eluvians from other nations - it would be terribly useful right now.”

“I’ll need to leave soon, then.”

Claudia felt sad at the thought. This pattern they’d woven would fall apart. The same sadness was on Lucius’s face, and then on Ashara’s when she looked back at them.

“As soon as you can. The good news is that it's almost time for my usual - meeting at my villa in the border. I believe some friends will meet us there that can escort you the rest of the way, which should only take three days or so if the weather is good.”

Why did he hesitate to mention Bull? Ah. Lucius. Rumors only grew, of course, about their involvement, but Dorian had still never once acknowledged it outright. Certainly not in uncertain company.

“No - Uncle, I do _not_ need the Chargers to take me all the way. That's a waste of their time.”

“What, are you going to go all on your own? Not happening, and I can't take you myself.”

“Then Lucius and Claudia can come with me. That is - if either of you would want to.”

“I would,” Claudia said. Six months was long enough to create a pattern that she was loathe to lose.

“Lucius?” Ashara asked, equal parts expectant and nervous.

“I don't know. I’d have to ask Magister Corix. And think about it. But - I’d like to.”

They talked a little while longer, sharing the day’s findings, until Lucius excused himself shortly before dinner. Usually after Lucius went home, Claudia and Ashara would sit quietly together somewhere and write letters or compile notes or read. That evening, Ashara couldn't seem to settle on a single thing. She flitted from one to the next.

“You seem upset,” Claudia said finally.

“I wanted so badly to get out and see the world, to help my mother. I spent months begging my parents to let me go. Then I got here, and I missed them both so terribly and wanted to return. Now I’ll be heading back, and I’ll miss you and Lucius when I go.”

“That’s inevitable, Ash.” The nickname had begun to stick.

“I know that objectively, but…” She slumped into a chair. “I’m sorry. I’m being childish. I’ve just really enjoyed getting to know you and Lucius - I don't want that to end. I want you by my side when I figure the rest of this out. Which is selfish of me, because you both have your own lives…”

As Ashara rose, Claudia saw how her pacing was driven by this cycle of thoughts in her head. She felt thankful that her own thoughts and emotions always seemed so much more straight forward, and then felt a wave of protectiveness for the younger woman before her.

“It’s not selfish or childish. I would want the support of friends, too. Your mother is dying - it's okay to be emotional.”

She saw immediately from the ramrod posture and narrowed eyes that she'd said the wrong thing.

“She’s not dying. She's sick.”

Claudia had wondered how Ashara justified being so far from home, how she was still warm and affectionate and hopeful. When her own mother was dying, she hadn't managed half that. Now she saw it.

“Yes. She's sick. It's okay that you want help. I will come with you to Orlais and beyond - I am certain Dorian will let me. You don't have to do this alone.”

Ashara sat down beside her, and gently took both of her hands.

“Ma serannas, lethallin.”

Claudia couldn't be sure what the words meant, but she felt the weight of them - whether that was a quirk of the language or the elf before her, she could not say.

Ashara settled a little bit after that, picking up a book she’d been but continuing to tap her foot every now and then, nervously. She broke the silence before Claudia could ask what was wrong.

“Do you think Lucius will come, too?”

“I really don't know. He surprises me in a lot of ways. I don't know what to expect from him.”

Ashara was quiet.

“I hope he does,” she said.

“I hope so too,” Claudia said.

And the next day, when their pattern resumed, when they met in the library, Lucius wore a shy, uncertain smile they had not seen before.

“So, when do we leave?” he asked.

*

Lucius replayed Corix’s words over and over again the entire journey to the border town villa where Magister Pavus would leave them.

“Lavellan is leaving the Imperium to continue her experiment in Orlais. I believe she may rejoin her parents soon,” Lucius told him. It was enough, he thought. The truth but not the whole truth. This would be the end of it. The end of lying to her, and the end of the fragile friendship they’d built.

“Excellent. I will provide you with funds and supplies to join her.”

He could lie and say she had not invited him, that they were not friends anymore - but - he'd never left the Imperium before. And they were friends. And if he failed Corix now - no one would take him as an apprentice.

“Thank you, ser.”

He was lucky Corix saw him as little more than a tool. Otherwise he might have noticed the hesitation in his reply.

“I’ll need you to stay in contact with me. Try and engage her in conversation about Enasan whenever you can - I have received interesting reports from people who have been there recently. Reports about the state of the Veil there. I want you to corroborate them, if possible.”

“I will try.”

It wasn't much of a promise. He didn't say he would deliver, or that he would put every ounce of his effort into it. That was how he justified hours of riding in silence, or discussing magic, or laughing at Pavus’s many stories as they journeyed, without ever once trying to bring up the Veil in Enasan, or really anything about her parents -except for what he got from the stories.

“And then, with all our wet clothes hanging by the fire, and the lot of us shivering under blankets and eating hard tack, Ellana hears the sound of more red Templars nearby, clearly lost in the dark. She looks at me, shrugs, goes back to eating, and then when the Templars round the bend, she calmly picks up her bow, hits two of them in the head, and then I raise them and send them after the their companions. Heard their screams all the way down the hill. Then we all said good night and went to bed.”

“That can't be true,” Lucius said.

“Oh, every word. I never exaggerate.”

“Please,” Ashara said. “You once insisted that you delivered me yourself, in the woods, with no help, and that Mamae was going to name me Doriana until Papae intervened.”

“Such a traitor. Then again, you came into this world betraying me. Twenty-four hours earlier, Ashara. Twenty-four hours earlier and we would share a birthday. You did that on purpose.”

Lucius still didn't believe any of it could be true. He knew about the Inquisition of course, but mostly in broad strokes - the fall of Haven, the intervention in the Orlesian civil war, the siege of Adamant, the final defeat of Corypheus, and, of course, its opposition to the forces of Fen’Harel. But to hear of it spoken in such intimate terms - as campfires and cold meals and dirty shoes and long marches and inside jokes - was another thing entirely. Anyone could be forgiven for getting caught up in the stories.

It only got worse as they approached the border town villa, when he saw the massive Qunari waiting for them, and another figure stepped from history into the present.

“You’re late, kadan,” he said, this directed at Pavus. He said it calmly, like he was remarking on the clouds, like he hadn't expected anything else. Then he turned his wide gray body towards Ashara. “Hey, kid. You look slightly less scrawny than the last time I saw you. You turning Vint on us and enjoying too much of that fine food and wine?”

“Maybe I am,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “Or maybe it’s all the extra work I’ve been putting in with my staff after our wyvern encounter. I even got a scar from it, I’ll have you know.”

“Talk to me when you’ve got a dozen. You let the kid get scarred, Claudia?”

“I protested the plan at various stages, but once they attacked, I left her to her own devices.”

“Well done. She needs more of that.” Now he turned his one good eye on Lucius. “Who’s the new guy?”

“Lucius Talvas of Vyrantium.”

“The Iron Bull, in case you needed an introduction. Seeing as how you’ve never been here, Lucius, maybe Ashara and Claudia could give you a look around for a bit while I catch up with Dorian here.”

“A long look around or a short one?” Claudia asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“A short one, sadly.”

There was some subtext he was missing, and Lucius knew it from the chuckles he earned from Ashara and Claudia. There were rumors about Pavus, of course. He’d never known if they were true or not. Perhaps they were? Then again, seeing the Qunari, he found it hard to believe that anyone would find him anything but intimidating. He did not ask either of the women as they ambled around the woods. It was not his place.

When they returned they saw Pavus sighing and running a hand through his hair, which was mussed now.

“Well, you’ll probably consider this good news, my contrarian niece. It looks like we’ll have to let you go on to Val Chevin alone after all.”

“Oh? Why?” Ashara asked.

“Got a mission,” the Qunari said. “An important one. I can't even stay here longer than just the night, let alone make it into Orlais.”

“And I can't get away from the Magisterium long enough, either,” Pavus said.

“We’ll be fine. It's not like it's a war zone. Didn't the Imperium build those lovely roads for a reason?” Ashara sounded irritated.

“Your parents are not going to like this,” Pavus said.

“They won't have a choice. They’re being too worried, anyway. I’m not a child.”

Pavus heaved a sigh. “This is why I’m happy I never had children. Ungrateful little rebels, the lot of you.”

Ashara rolled her eyes. “Please.”

They moved into the villa after that, and enjoyed dinner alongside a ragtag group of mercenaries, filled with yet more improbable stories. Bull offered his best advice for getting to Val Chevin, although it didn't seem that hard. As Ashara said, the old imperial road ran straight to it, and it was only a three days' journey. Later, sipping Antivan brandy, Pavus found an excuse to sit beside Lucius and drop his voice low. Whatever he was about to say clearly had nothing to do with getting to Val Chevin.

“Are you excited to finally see more of the world out there?”

“Yes. Without a doubt.”

“Good. I remember what it was like, leaving the Imperium for the first time. You think Minrathous is the center of the universe, that the Archon is second only to the Maker, until you’re neck deep in mud in some forsaken Orlesian hamlet where even the peasants spit on you the moment they realize where you’re from. It’s - refreshing. Very cold, but refreshing.”

Lucius nodded slowly, feeling the warmth of the brandy seep all the way to his toes. “Well said.”

There was a pause, in which Pavus swirled his own brandy, and more of the spicy scent drifted towards Lucius’s nose, lulling him enough that he didn't feel the magic slip across the Veil.

“This goes without saying, but if you hurt either of them - it will end badly for you. And it won't end when you die, either.”

He felt the flicker of fear that he knew was not natural - the kind of fear that not only raised the hairs on his neck but prickled deep in his mana, too. Pavus was an accomplished necromancer. The threat was clear.

“I promise I would never harm either of them,” he said, and they were words he felt in his chest. True words. He would not stop writing to Corix. But he would not do anything to harm them. He watched them now, seated by the fire with Bull, both leaning their chins on their hands, and felt a surge of protectiveness he had not felt in many years, at once enjoyable and frightening.

*

That night, as Ashara went to gather Lucius and Claudia’s spirits to show them what memories she could, she heard the call again. More insistent this time. A song that spoke of her, of the excitement her presence brought, of many years of loneliness. It was the beginning of the night - surely three more questions couldn't hurt - and both Claudia and Lucius were mages, capable at least of dreaming lucidly. She could warn them of what she was about to do…

She found Claudia first, deep in a memory of - bookkeeping? records? she was organizing something - and told her.

“Don't panic - I’m going to speak to the spirit that I got stuck with before.”

“What about that sentence is meant to stop me from panicking?” Claudia said.

“Well, you know this time. If I do get stuck, we’ll catch it immediately. I won’t be long.”

With that, Ashara dove after the sound, and found herself once again in a field, faced by an Elvhen man. His features were different this time - his hair brown, his eyes green, his nose sharper - but she recognized him nonetheless. Friend. He’d asked her to call him Friend. She'd forgotten that before, trying to parse the wave of emotion and sound he left her with. She never told her father that detail.

“I am pleased you heard my call. An admirable effort for a young Dreamer.”

Flattery? Was that his nature? He did not show it before.

“Is that what you are? Another Dreamer?”

He smiled a cat’s smile.

“I was, but no longer. I am what I said - simply a friend. Were you successful in your quest to enchant stormheart?”

“Partially.” Three questions from him this time. That was all she would allow.

“And how, may I ask, will this help your mother? I can still hear you calling for her.”

How, exactly? Ashara knew that she herself was disposed to hear the Fade in its many varieties - her father always said that as she grew older and more skilled, she might find her other sense to be equally attuned, to the point of being able to smell an emotion or feel the textures of the different layers - but she had never yet been able to hear something that precise about someone else.

“Perhaps I don't want to say.”

“Perhaps if you do not say, I cannot help you,” he said, crossing his arms loosely behind his back. It was a gesture reminiscent of her father. The balance was shifting here. He was trying to coax something out of her. She would ask him one more question and then she would flee.

“And how could you help me?”

 **“** I have lived long. Seen much. Doesn't an extra mind always help?”

“I suppose.” She was drawing back, but this time it was not like walking through thick mud. This time it was as simple as withdrawing from any other dream.

“Your father,” he said as she drew away. “Next time, your father -”

She was already too far away.

*

Solas was searching memories of Elvhenan when he felt the approach of his daughter, familiar to him as the sound of rain. Her spirit always felt like a rush of heat, energy, excitement. It never failed to make him smile a little. It was a quality he feared would dim as she grew older - as far as he could tell, it wouldn't. She still bounded towards him like the child she insisted she wasn't.

“Good evening. Are you well?” He asked.

“I spoke to the spirit again. He was calling to me the last few nights. He looked different this time, but I know it was him. He didn't try to keep me there like last time - I was able to leave the instant I wanted to.”

Solas felt his chest constrict with fear. “You should not have gone to him.”

She shrugged, exasperated.

“It worked out, didn't it? And besides, I learned something. He said he _was_ a Dreamer, but not anymore. He said he was a friend. What could that have meant?”

Solas turned the thought over in his mind.

“I do not know. At a guess, that this is the spirit of a dead Dreamer. It is not impossible. Sometimes the spirit of one of our people would leave their body forever during uthenera, and they would truly die. Perhaps this is such a spirit, separated from its body and unable to return, yet still possessing many of its former powers and qualities.”

Ashara nodded, tilting her head a little as she thought about it in a gesture he recognized. It was something he himself did. It was a delight, still, to see pieces of himself turn up in his child.

“He knew that what I was doing was for Mamae,” she said. “He said he might be able to help. I left before I could find out much more than that. And as I left, he started to say something about ‘your father,’ but I don't know what he meant.”

It was his turn to tilt his head in thought. “This is strange on many counts. Next time you hear this call, you should bring me with you to answer it. I would like to meet this spirit.”

“I will. I’m tired now - it's so hard to get to you when I’m far away. Good night, Papae.”

“Good night, Ashara.”

She left and Solas let the Fade around him grow dim and vague as he turned inward to his thoughts. Who could the spirit be? Could he help with the very issue Solas found himself facing?

He’d deliberately made the magic of his orb, and of the Veil, with no fail safes. It was, or it was not. Even weakening it slowly in the area around Enasan, as he’d promised Ellana and others that he could, was difficult. If anyone could have found a way to undo what he’d done, it would have been one of the Evanuris. He’d seen them work terrifying miracles - yet many of them were done via secrets unknown even to him. And who could he ask now?

He had one lead. One tenuous lead. A memory of an elf who had first learned to remove the enchantment of vallaslin. A memory of a rumor involving blood magic, something he himself had never practiced - something unlike his own remedy to the vallaslin. Something that might fix this, because from what he'd heard, the magic purged any and all enchantment from the slave’s body on a level deeper than ever thought possible. Perhaps…

Perhaps soon this mysterious spirit would call on Ashara again. Then he would know more. For now it was time to rest, to let the hours slip by unt he could waken at Ellana’s side, naked and warm and welcoming, so he could show her again how very much he loved her every curve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time we'll see Sera and Dagna, as well as some more adventures for Claudia, Ashara, and Lucius in Orlais. Until then, thank you as always for reading/leaving kudos and comments and such :D
> 
> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/).


	7. Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortish update today, but now that I am on break I hope to have all kinds of updates to all kinds of fics headed your way :)

The trip to Val Chevin was short and for the most part, uneventful. Orlais was the country Ashara knew best, next to Enasan, thanks to her mother’s diplomatic and social trips alike. It left her feeling at ease, even if she could tell her parents didn't feel the same way when she told them they were going on alone.

“I know the journey is short, and you know to stay to the roads,” Mamae said in the dream Papae brought them both to. There was an unspoken ‘but’ after her words. Her father was not so subtle.

“And you are certain this Lucius is worthy of your trust? Dorian knows him, and the magister he is apprenticed to?”

“ _Yes_ , Papae.”

It wasn't even a lie. He didn't ask if Dorian knew them _well_.

Besides, she could decide for herself if Lucius was trustworthy. She knew he was from a society where dishonesty and honesty were each currencies in their own right, that he had few advantages in that society, but - there was kindness in him. She saw it each morning on their journey, when he helped clear their plates rather than letting the serving man or woman do it, and in his interactions with strangers who asked for directions or coin. When he warned her about a pothole in the road or asked if see wanted the last of his sweet rolls, since she liked her own so much.

And, yes, he was tall and he had wide shoulders and, increasingly, the shadow of a beard covering his square - he had a solid jaw and he spoke Trade with a charming accent - but all of that was incidental. Intriguing, but incidental.

In fact, the most eventful thing that happened that trip was not her realization that he was handsome, and so very _human_ and different than the elves who’d caught her eye before, but their argument over Enasan.

Ambling along a shaded road, only a few hours outside of Val Chevin, they passed by an open field, which led Claudia to remark:

“Isn't this near where the Ambush of Val Chevin happened in 9:45 Dragon?”

The name took Ashara aback for a moment. “You mean the Battle of - oh - I’m not sure how the word translates out of Elvhen. Waving Grass, I guess, but it loses some of the poetry,” she said.

“The one where the forces of Fen’Harel massacred a caravan of merchants traveling the imperial roads?” Lucius joined in.

Ashara could feel her skin growing warm, all the way to the tips of her ears, as she filled with the sickening combination of embarrassment and anger that always came from discussing her father's war with outsiders.

“You mean where they attacked a group of slavers who were then engaged in bringing supplies to the very nobles who refused to tear down alienage walls in the cities of Orlais?” she said.

Claudia shrugged. “When you put it that way, it does sound different.”

“But it implies that they were just there to support the plight of the elves. They were trying to cripple the people opposing Fen’Harel’s horrific plans - helping other elves was just a byproduct of helping a madman,” Lucius countered.

“Excuse me?” Ashara said, and instantly regretted the tone of her words.

It was not the first time she’d heard her father called a madman.

It wasn't even the worst thing she’d heard him called.

Lucius didn't even say it with any particular animosity.

Ashara knew - had known for years - that she couldn't and shouldn't defend the things he’d done. Not all of them.

But the three of them had been so comfortable, so at ease, not just that morning but for the last month, almost. Spending every day together. It was becoming like the stories Mamae and Papae told about their friends. Ashara didn't get that often. And to hear him say it so casually, like it was a simple fact, undisputed - to hear him say it even after he’d gotten to know her -

Lucius was visibly taken aback now. Ashara’s emotions were on her face, of course. Like always. Damn.

“You - I know he's your father, but - do you actually think that what he wanted to do was right? He wanted to rip out the Veil. That is, in fact, an insane idea.”

“It -” She was already too angry, and already cursing herself for getting so angry, for not being able to control her emotions the way her father could. She wanted to be calm, cool, cutting. “It is more complicated than that.”

Lucius laughed a bleak laugh. “How could it possibly be complicated?”

“Did you ever try to think about it yourself, or did you just blindly accept what they taught you?”

“Do you just accept what he taught you?”

Silence, except for the wind in her grass. Ashara wondered briefly what she would see if she dreamed there - what the elves who fought thought of the man who sent them there. Maybe they would be able to tell her what to think. What to say.

“I did always wonder, you know,” Claudia said a little further down the road. “What the world would be like without the Veil. What it must have been like in the time of the ancient elves. I’d like to see it.”

No one said anything to that.

*

Val Chevin was not as grand as Val Royeaux by a long shot, so Ashara found little to tempt her eyes. Claudia still looked around with mild interest. It was Lucius whose eyes were wide at the white buildings and gold trim and blue roofs, so removed from the austere stone and crumbling ruins of Tevinter. She wanted to share in his excitement but found the words stuck in her throat. She could push past this. She had to. She couldn't spend her whole life pushing away people who disagreed with her father. She’d never find anyone, friend or otherwise. Of course, by the time she’d drummed up the courage to speak again, they’d arrived at the address her mother relayed. The door was opened by a dwarf, whose face immediately broke open in a grin.

“Ashara? Wow, you got tall. I mean, that is what kids do, but I guess in my head I was still picturing the cute little kid we saw all those years ago. Oh, man, do you even remember me? I’m Dagna. It's weird introducing yourself to someone you’ve met before, but nice to meet you! Again.”

Dagna was exactly as Ashara remembered from their few encounters - short and bubbly and smiling - even if her hair was gray now and her eyes were rimmed with charming lines. The tension that had wound around her spine since their argument began to ebb as the introductions continued, as Dagna ushered them inside and rushed them past various piles of mess. The only notable absence was her wife, Sera.

They had a little time to freshen themselves up before settling in for dinner, and in that time the elf still did not appear. Ashara was disappointed, but not surprised. Her own mother described their relationship as a rivalry at best, an outright antagonism at worst. Her father couldn't speak of her without rolling his eyes most of the time. She and Dagna hadn’t come to the wedding six months before, something Dagna apologized for immediately.

“Sera really did have business to attend to, and I had this huge order for Divine Victoria - we really did want to come. I bet it was beautiful.”

“It’s alright. Even Claudia here didn't make it,” Ashara said.

“Your parents only just got married?” Lucius asked.

“Yes. To quote my mother, they just ‘never got around to it before,’ but - it had a lot to do with her getting sick.”

Dagna sighed. “I always feared this would happen to her, even after the Anchor was removed. But it sounds like we’ve got hope now, right? That's why you’re here?”

In the time it took them to go over their ideas, Ashara could feel more of the ease being restored between them - their words and gestures flowed back and forth as they took their turns describing the project and their pet theories.

“I think we need two objects - not sure if shape matters - one to move the energy into and one for the mage transferring it to touch, a sort of grounding item,” Ashara said.

“I think that's essential,” Lucius leapt in. “For all we know the energy could move from one host to another.”

“We may even need it to be some kind of additional energy source to keep the mage’s mana up,” Claudia added. “From Ashara’s description, it's a lot of raw power to process.”

“So one item to attract and one item to repel and empower - makes sense, but it may be tough to pull off.”

“That's not all,” Ashara said. “The one that attracts needs to somehow mimic something about Mamae’s body. That's where we’re stuck.”

“Hmm - that is a conundrum. I have some thoughts, but let me tinker with them a bit until i share them."

“Sounds reasonable," Claudia said. "The original text referenced Fade-touched stormheart, which we brought with us, but Dorian suggested veridium could also be useful since it's found in the raw Fade.”

“He’s clever, that one. Stormheart is incredibly durable - it could certainly hold the kind of power you are talking about. But veridium - I think veridium could do the attracting part you’re looking for,” Dagna replied.

“Where could we get some?”

At that point, Dagna leaned back in her chair and sighed.

“Well, here's the issue. There's a mine nearby, but there have been some territorial disputes over it - idiot warring nobles, that sort of thing. We could send for veridium from somewhere else, but it could take a while to arrive.”

Of course. It _was_ Orlais.

“Damn. Could we reconcile the nobles?” Claudia said.

“Unlikely.”

“Do they owe any favors to the Chantry or the Inquisition?” Ashara asked.

“Maybe - but I’m not the one to ask. Sera could tell you, when she gets back. Should be later tonight.”

They talked a little while longer, until the hour grew late and Claudia began to nod off - the thing that had become their usual signal for bed, and a running joke to boot. Ashara woke her with a touch on her shoulder (“Yes, yes, I know - I’m the first asleep again.”) and together they made their way upstairs. Ashara made sure she got to bed, which of course led to more griping (“I’m _tired_ , not helpless!”). When she got to her own room, Lucius was waiting, slouching against her door. She walked up to him, as if she would just brush past him.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier today,” he said. “For what I said about your father. The truth is - it's still hard to think of him as anything but what I was taught. Let alone to remember that he's, you know - your father. I can't promise I’ll change my mind but I’d like to hear more. About him. About Enasan. About the Veil.”

They were very close, close enough that she could feel the heat that radiated off of him. He stepped back, as if he'd realized that suddenly.

“If you're fine with that,” he added.

“Of course. I am sure we have a lot to teach each other. Even if you’re still wrong about barriers.”

He snorted. “Good night, Ash.”

He was walking away, and suddenly she wanted him to stay. “That isn’t my name,” she called after him. He turned and continued walking backwards.

“Then maybe you should stop walking up to strange men and telling them it is,” he said.

“I didn't walk up to you. You stormed over to me.”

“Fine, fine. You win this round, Ashara.”

The teasing inflection on the second half of her name made her smile.

The smile carried her all the way through her nightly rituals - undressing, washing, preparing to meditate - and it was probably the reason she failed to notice the figure in her room.

“Fenhedis!” She hissed when she saw it, groping for her staff, her blood rushing.

“Yup. Just as elfy as I thought.”

She relaxed.

“Sera?”

“Well, yeah. This _is_ my house.”

Sera moved, dispelling that unnatural roguish stillness that her own mother possessed. How did they do it?

“Why were you just - lurking here?” Ashara asked.

“I was using the rooftops to get home and decided to come through the window. Then you came in and I decided to see how long it’d take you to notice. You’re pretty oblivious. Head half in the Fade already?”

Ashara bristled. Sera, too, had lines on her face and hair that had failed from bright gold to something more aged and buttery, but she wasn't any different than the stories she had grown up on.

“No.”

“Pfft. Just like your dad. No sense of humor.”

“No - I have a sense of humor - he does too - just - I am sure you don't like me being here because you hate my parents but -”

Sera held up a placating hand.

“Woah - who ever said I hated your mum? Your dad’s one story, but her? Pfft. She’s annoying as all get out, but I never hated her.”

That wasn't the answer she expected. It was as common as sunrise to meet people who disliked Papae, one way or another - but Mamae? Of course there were those who disagreed with what she’d done, but to dislike her as person -

“How was she annoying?”

“To be honest, she was already sort of a mum back then. Always coddling me, always trying to warn me about things, trying to stop me from putting lizards in bedrolls. I bet she was a good mum to you, at least. But I didn’t need one.” Sera crossed the room then, so her back was to Ashara. “I mean, she is really caring and all that. She cares about everyone. That’s her problem. That’s how she ended up with your dad, yeah? There are about a dozen things he shouldn’t have been forgiven for, and yet there she is. Forgiving.”

There was nothing to say to that.

“She deserves to live longer. She’s pulled my butt out of the fire often enough. It’s the least we can do to pull hers out. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“We need to get into a mine in the area, but Dagna said it was difficult because -”

“Because Prissypants and Danglebag are fighting. Yeah, they haven't been running the mine in months. Poor workers are really starting to get desperate for work, not that they care.”

Ashara couldn't help but chuckle at the nicknames.

“My Jennies will see to it that you can get into the mine. You won't be able to reconcile those tits.”

“Thank you, Sera.”

“You’re welcome.”

Then the older elf opened the door, stepped through, and was gone.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to say with the last update that I found an actress (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) who reminds me of Ashara! [Here she is!](http://static.oprah.com/2016/04/201605-omag-gugu-mbatha-raw-949x534.jpg) Different eyes and freckles and slightly more elven features, of course, but it's nice to finally have a reference. Rosario Dawson and Dev Patel ultimately became my models for Claudia and Lucius, as you can see on the [OCs page](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/ocs) of my Tumblr.
> 
> Fun fact: I've played Inquisition 3 times all the way through, and somehow Sera never ended up as my friend, despite me actively trying to do everything right in my second and third playthroughs. WTF, Sera. At least I know why you and Ellana never got along.
> 
> Up next: Fun times at the veridium mine, more clarity from Ashara’s Fade friend, and who knows what else because as usual this fic is having fun getting away from me.
> 
> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/)!


	8. First Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the lovely Kineticegg suggested Dev Patel as a good model for Lucius, and I have now enthusiastically adopted this! (I will eventually go back and rewrite the brief description of him earlier on to reflect this) For your viewing pleasure: [here he is, along with some other pictures of other OCs](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/ocs). http://i.ndtvimg.com/i/2015-01/dev-patel_640x480_51421846886.jpg
> 
> There is some violence in this chapter, but nothing worse than what we've seen before. Just a heads up :)

Lucius had to write to Magister Corix.

The mine was just far enough away that they spent the night at an inn so they would be well rested when they met with Sera’s contact in the morning. He knew he could send word from there. He didn't want to.

He wrote the letter anyway.

 

_Ser -_

_We made it to Val Chevin. Lavellan needs veridium for her experiment. I believe it is of a purely personal nature and in no way related to the Veil in Enasan. Will continue to update._

 

_\- Lucius Talvas_

 

He signed the outside with the name of a tavern he’d noted near Dagna’s house, and wondered how much longer Corix would believe that he spent every day with the elf and still didn't know exactly what the experiment was for. It would take two days for the raven to reach Minrathous and for another to return. He had at least that long to wonder.

“There you are,” Claudia said when he returned. “We were just getting ready for Diamondback while we wait for Sera’s contact. Do you want to play in this round, or play the winner?”

“I’m quite good at Diamondback, so I’ll take the winner,” he replied.

“Too bad three is too small for Wicked Grace,” Claudia said as she shuffled the cards. “I’d love to see how that would play out amongst the three of us. It’s the perfect way to get to know someone. How well they lie, whether or not they cheat…”

“You’re such a cynic. Can’t you learn anything positive about people that way?” Ashara said, picking up her hand.

“Sure. Whether or not they’re a gracious winner, how many risks they’re willing to take…”

This was a perfectly natural conversation, given the topic, Lucius assured himself. Claudia didn’t even spare him a glance when she said any of it.

Sera’s contact, Evette, turned out to be a human who’d worked in the mine and knew a secret way in that would bypass the soldiers cutting off access. She was young, and pretty, and chatted with them as they walked away from the town and into the woods.

“Do you hope they’ll start running the mine soon?” Ashara asked.

“Yes, for my parents’ sake. I’m not so worried about myself anymore. My man asked me to marry him, and he’s gone away on a big trip, and when he comes back he’ll have enough money for us to start our lives. I won’t need Red Jenny to help me soon.” She was all too eager to show off to the simple gold band she wore on her right hand.

“It’s lovely,” Ashara said. “I’m sure he had to save up for it.”

She was always so friendly, so genuine, so un-Tevene. Was it because she was an elf? Elves in Tevinter could be equally closed off and manipulative, though. Were they all like this in Enasan, where they were among their own people? Maybe he could write to Corix about that next.

The friendly chatter stopped as they approached the mine, in case soldiers were still posted near it, though Evette assured them it shouldn’t be an issue, saying they usually guarded the main road further out. They were looking for other soldiers coming to try and take the mine back for good - not for a small, quiet group slipping through the trees. That was another thing he couldn’t help but notice about Ashara out here - her unnatural quiet, the way she seemed to belong here in the woods. He wondered if that was the sort of thing he could say to her, or if it was impolite. With the way she’d smiled at him the other night outside her room -

“We’re here,” Evette said. The mine was down a gully, and they stood on the ridge above its rocky entrance. Carts and tools sat long abandoned outside of it - it would appear they were truly alone.

“I’m trying to think of where you can stand watch,” Claudia said. “We might have to go in fairly deep if we’re going to find something Fade-touched. At least we had to with the stormheart. I want you to be able to see, but also to warn us in time.”

Evette shifted uneasily. “Unfortunately, I need to get back to my parents. I told them I’d gone to visit a friend - they wouldn’t want me here around the mine, with the danger it poses.”

“Damn. I understand, of course. You can head back now if you want.” When she was gone, Claudia spoke again. “I think I should stand watch. I can use fear to try and turn away anyone who gets too close. I think it’ll be subtle enough that they won't know what I’m doing.”

“So no giant purple skulls?” Lucius asked.

“Exactly,” Claudia snorted. “Now get down there and get back as quick as you can. I don't care what anyone says. We shouldn't linger here.”

The mine was cool and dry, and Ashara lit the dormant lanterns with lazy flicks of her fingers as they walked, listening as before for that peculiar hum of Fade-touched metal.

“Do you think we should leave some money?” Ashara asked when they’d been walking for a little while.

“What?”

“For the veridium. Isn’t this stealing otherwise?”

“I guess. If they want to have some silly fight over this mine and not keep it running, then I vote they don’t get to profit from it. Isn’t it odd that someone would claim to own something that occurs naturally in the ground anyway?”

Ashara laughed. “Spoken like some of the more radical elves in Enasan.”

“Really?”

“Yes. They believe that nature is its own entity with its own rights, and not something any mortal being can own.”

“What about immortal beings?” He meant it as a joke, but as he thought about it, he realized he wasn’t talking about theoretical people. He was talking about real ones.

“Some of the radicals are reawakened Elvhen,” Ashara said. “They see caring for the land as even more important than most mortal citizens, since they plan on being around for a very, very long time.”

It was something he hadn’t considered about her before. Obviously her father was immortal. Her mother couldn’t be. So what about her?

“Are you?” He blurted.

“Am I what? Elvhen? I’m only half, obviously.”

“So are you… immortal?”

She looked down and ran her hand along a vein of veridium.

“We can’t be certain. At least not now,” she said. “It is possible that I am. But the Veil is still in place, and obviously that played some role in the loss of our immortality, although we can’t be sure exactly why. How did the sentinel elves remain unaffected? For that matter, how did my father? We thought it might just be uthenera, but they haven’t aged since waking up, either. I guess we’ll be able to tell as I keep getting older. I’ll age - or I won’t.”

They were silent for a time after that, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. Lucius glanced at her when he could, when he thought she wouldn’t notice, studying her face as if it would tell him. He found himself instead counting freckles, noticing the exact blue of her eyes. This was the perfect time to ask. She mentioned the Veil herself. They were talking about elves, and by extension about Enasan. It would be so easy to just slip the question in -

“Here!” Ashara called out, pressing her hand more firmly to a spot in the wall. “It hasn’t been excavated yet but I feel it. Can you?”

“Yes. How deep is it?”

“Only one way to find out.”

It only took three Stonefists from Ashara and a small shove of force from Lucius to reveal the glittering green vein. The sound was still echoing through the mine when they took out their tools and began to tap into the vein itself.

“Don’t forget how Claudia told you to hold them last time,” Lucius said as he went to work.

“Oh, hush,” Ashara grumbled in reply.

They worked in companionable silence after that, breaking out the largest chunks they could and setting them aside. The hum of the Fade-touched metal grew stronger the deeper they went, which prompted a quick discussion of how deep they could mine before they would need to blast away more rock, and whether or not that was structurally sound, and how neither of them even knew what structurally sound really meant, and how mages really ought to be taught something other than magic once in awhile -

_“Get up here.”_

Claudia’s echoing hiss snapped them out of their reverie. Lucius was the first to gather the veridium he’d mined and head towards the sound. Of course, by the time they got there, Claudia was not alone. Three men and a woman in Orlesian armor stood near the entrance to the mine - and, behind them, a taller man, wearing templar armor.

“Shit,” Ashara swore beside him.

“We don’t mean any trouble,” Claudia was saying. “We were tracking a great bear - we thought this was its lair -”

“This isn’t even about trespassing anymore,” the Templar said, stepping forward. “This is about the foul misuse of magic. Tevinter mages coming south and thinking they can use their ill-gotten arts with no consequence. And elves too, for that matter.”

No. Claudia must have seen them, cast fear on them, only for them to realize what was happening - southern templars weren’t like the ones back home - weren’t they supposed to be better now? What could this man do?

“I assure you that this is a misunderstanding,” Claudia began again. She didn’t finish the word ‘misunderstanding.’ That was when an invisible wall slammed into her, and her throat closed up, and her eyes went wide, and she fell. He’d drained her. He’d taken her magic.

“Smite her again,” the female soldier cried out. “Show them that the Chantry still has teeth!”

“No!”

He wasn’t sure if it was his voice or Ashara’s he was hearing, just as seconds later he couldn’t be sure if it was him or her that engulfed the templar in flames.

It happened quickly after that. The soldiers charged and he caged one of them with static and Ashara twisted the Veil around the others, holding them below a single glowing green point. Neither lasted for long, but it was long enough. Long enough for her to dart forward and use her staff to knock the one he’d caged unconscious. The other three broke free and dove for her but only one got a cut in with his sword, straight across her ribs, before Lucius was there with a mindblast that sent them staggering back. Then it was Ashara again with a quick jab of her staff to his temple and he hit the ground hard -

And it was the sound of Erast’s head hitting the stone in Vyrantium.

Lucius couldn’t breathe. There was no more air in the mine. The body of the templar was still burning, screaming, the greasy ashy smell filling his nose, but it was the body of the elf instead, and his little brother was dead, and nothing would ever be the same - someone was calling his name but it didn’t matter -

_“Lucius!”_

It was Ashara’s shaking hand on his arm that broke the memory’s hold. Her shaking bloodied hand. His eyes darted around. The other soldiers were on the ground but there’d been a struggle. Ashara was cut - across her ribs from before but on her arms now, too, and one bad gash on her shoulder, close to her neck. They weren’t wearing any kind of armor that day. She’d fought the last two alone, at close quarters, while he was lost in his own fucking mind.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, and his voice was weak even to his own ears.

“Claudia,” she said, not really a response so much as a realization, as she darted over to where the other woman lay, stirring now.

“What happened?” Claudia asked, her voice raspy, as though she’d been shouting.

“Are you hurt?” Ashara asked urgently. “Did he hurt you?”

“I don’t think so. I can barely feel my magic. I feel so empty. You’re bleeding, Ash - what happened?”

“Drink this. We need to heal the soldiers. I don’t want them to die too.” Ashara handed her a lyrium potion.

Lucius looked at them now. The first two were out cold. One was covered in burns from the static cage. The other two - Ashara had clearly used the blade on the end of her staff to defend herself. Even with the lyrium, Claudia was too weak to use the full extent of her healing magic, and resorted to some of the herbs and potions she kept in her pack. Ashara sat down weakly to wait for her own turn, and Lucius sat beside her.

“I guess we don’t really know who killed him,” she said quietly. “You or me.”

His eyes went to the charred body furthest from them, then away again.

“No, we don’t.”

“Does it matter?” It was a genuine question. She was processing. Had she ever killed anyone before? Most likely not. When would she have had cause?

“They weren’t listening to us,” Lucius said, in the most reassuring voice he could manage. “If he’d been able to drain our mana too, we would have been helpless, and who knows what they would have done.”

She nodded slowly in agreement.

“I wonder how he has the lyrium, and why. I thought the Chantry was using Seekers and other mages to stop dangerous mages now.”

Lucius nodded, remembering that he’d heard something to that effect. He didn’t follow the Orlesian Chantry too closely, but he knew that Divine Victoria had been a source of change for mages and templars alike.

“Have you killed someone before?” Ashara asked, her eyes trained on the ground.

“The elf who killed my brother.”

Her head snapped up.

“When you got your magic?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t tell the whole story before.” It wasn’t a reproach. Just another realization.

“We didn’t know each other so well before.” It already seemed ages ago that they’d traveled from Minrathous together, strangers dancing warily around each other. “He pushed my brother out of a window. I’ll never forget that sound. When I hesitated during the fight...”

Ashara put her hand on his and squeezed it tight. She didn’t let go, not even when Claudia finished with the soldiers and came to heal her. It wasn’t until it was time to leave that Ashara released her hold, and even then he could still feel the pressure, the shape of her delicate fingers, like a brand.

*

They informed the mayor of what happened, and the local Chantry, and town guards were sent to retrieve the soldiers. They were as perturbed by the templar’s appearance as Ashara expected.

“We had heard of rogue templars in other places, but not here. Some people still believe that without the Circles as they used to be, without templars taking lyrium, we are not safe. They take such matters into their own hands. We will contact the Seekers, and they will determine where this man got his lyrium from, to prevent its spread,” the Mother in charge said.

“Will you find his family as well?” Claudia asked.

“Of course,” she replied.

“Then tell them, from all of us, that we wish he hadn’t died. We wish he would have just listened,” Claudia replied.

“Of course,” the woman said. “You were only there tracking a dangerous great bear, were you not?”

“Of course. They completely misunderstood our intentions. We didn’t even have a chance to properly explain,” Claudia said. Well, if there was any time for their practice with lying to come in handy, this was it. Ashara, mercifully, was waiting nearby with the bags containing the veridium they'd mined. No doubt her face - her eyes, the set of her lips - would give something away.

“I will see that the message is relayed.”

It was nearing sundown, but as they made their way towards the inn, Claudia spied a few market stalls that were still open.

“I need to restock my herbs after that,” she said. “Go rent us the room for another night. I’ll catch up.”

The inn was a stark contrast to their somber mood when they arrived - it was all laughter and song and the sweet smell of mead and the yeasty smell of ale. It grated on Lucius. He wanted to rent the room and go straight up, but Ashara beat him to the bar, and returned with a mug in each hand.

“Cider?” She offered.

“Couldn’t hurt,” he conceded.

They found a relatively quiet table in a corner and sat with their backs to the wall, and sipped their drinks. The cider was cool and crisp and tart - better than he expected, though Ashara made a face at first.

“It’s not as sweet as I was expecting. I asked them for dandelion wine, but they didn’t have it. I forgot it’s a Dalish thing, for a minute. You can get it most everywhere in Enasan.”

“I’ve never had it,” Lucius replied.

“I’ll have to make you some, then,” she said.

Warmth spread through Lucius, starting in his belly, the longer they sat and drank. The tension in his back and shoulders began to unwind. They did what they had to today. It was no one’s fault. He wondered vaguely what was taking Claudia so long. Ashara still looked a little pensive, though, and so he began pointing out various groups of people and speculating about why they were in the tavern. He came up with as many entertaining and implausible reasons as he could, until she began to join in.

“Traveling merchants who just got a big payday. They’re going to spend all of it here, I bet,” she said when she returned with a second round of cider, pointing to one table on the other side of the bar, where several human men were beginning a loud and sloppy song. One was attempting to dance on the table, kicking aside the many empty mugs on it.

“How boring,” he replied. “I vote that they have all been possessed by spirits who want to taste the joys of this world. It’s the only explanation for the way that one is dancing. No sane human would dance that way.”

She laughed and pointed out another group, and bit by bit the fear of the afternoon slipped out of her eyes.

“That’s obviously a Qunari spy,” she said, pointing out a man in the corner with a hood concealing most of his face, surveying the rest of the bar in much the same way they were, but with distinctly less humor.

“Nonsense,” Lucius said. “He’s obviously a father who has followed his daughter here, trying to guard her virtue.”

Ashara giggled at that one, and Lucius felt himself flush. It was only the cider.

“Speaking of virtue,” she said then. “It’s Evette and her betrothed - or, at least, I hope it’s her betrothed.”

Lucius followed her gaze and saw Evette in the lap of a man, kissing him. Quite enthusiastically. As if they were the only two people in the room, and it was already time for their wedding night.

“Void, I wonder if they realize they’re in public. Couldn’t they wait?” He chuckled.

Ashara didn’t say anything at first. She looked to be lost in thought. Then she shifted in her seat, and spoke.

“What’s the big deal, anyway?” She was close to him. Leaning against him, in fact. A stray curl brushed his cheek.

“With what?” He asked, though he knew, because her eyes were trained on Evette and her betrothed.

“Sex.” So lightly spoken, and it made his chest feel light in turn. His mind raced - a flash of brown thigh, of those curls splayed against the pillows. But if she’d said it that way -

“You can’t tell me you don’t know what the big deal is,” he said. He leaned against her a little in return.

“Maybe I don’t. Maybe I’ve never had a chance to find out.”

Oh.

He should probably have leaned away then. If she was telling the truth, she couldn’t possibly want him - here, now, tipsy on cider in some forgotten town in Orlais, still covered in dirt and sweat and, in her case, blood. Even if, more and more, he found himself watching her, or losing himself in the lilt of her voice. He said the only thing he could then, something that acknowledged the truth of the heat where their bodies met but did not push her further.

“That’s a shame.”

That was when she met his gaze. She had to tilt her chin up to do so. She was so close. It would be so easy, just for a moment, to lower his face down to hers -

“You could alway show me,” she said.

She had such full, lovely lips.

“Ash -”

“Ashara.”

“You don't -”

“I know what I’m asking. I know what I want.”

She pulled away then, slowly, and pushed away the remains of her drink. Then she crossed the bar to the stairs and disappeared from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo I think I said last time that we would get another visit from Ashara’s Fade friend but I couldn’t resist leaving you all here to wonder about her questionable decision making skills! We are rapidly approaching a big section of this that I had already written when I was first playing around with ideas for this fic, so I hope to make at least one more update this week.
> 
> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/)!


	9. Absence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some brief moments of - sensuality? I suppose? is that the word? - in this chapter, but nothing too bad. Just a heads up!
> 
> Thanks as always to those who leave kudos/comments, especially to Kinako and Kineticegg, who always make me smile!

_What do I do?_

The question played over and over in Ashara’s mind.

_Stupid stupid stupid!_

She was warm and relaxed from the cider and yet scratchy and dirty from the long day they’d had and did she really think it was a good idea to invite him to her bed when she hadn't even had a bath?

But her pulse was pounding and her skin was prickling and she remembered the warmth of his arm against hers and the depths of his brown eyes and she _wanted_ and she was free to do what she wanted, wasn’t she, in a way she never was before?

How should she even sit on the bed? What pose was most inviting? She’d shared heated kisses before, felt the furtive press of hands against her small breasts and slid her own hand against the solid bulge between a man's legs - but how did she sit and wait for something more?

Did she kill the templar, or was it him? Was it both of them, together, as it would be both of them, now, in this bed, if he came up?

When the door opened a sound traveled straight through her stomach and out her mouth in a little gasp and she stood as fast as she could because _surely_ she couldn't stand wrong.

It was Claudia.

“Evening,” Claudia said. Then, with a frown: “What happened?”

“What do you mean?” Ashara asked, trying for casual.

“I mean that you looked like you’d been caught doing something bad when I came in. Lucius had the same look on his face downstairs. He barely spoke to me.”

Her heart sank.

_I shouldn't have said anything._

“Is this about the templar?” Claudia asked, voice softening. “Are you both still upset?”

“No - yes.” It was better that Claudia think it was about what happened in the mine. Less embarrassing. And wasn't it related, anyway? Wasn't it why she felt scared and alive and desperate all at once?

Claudia just sighed.

“Who said what?”

“No one said anything.”

“I am not convinced.”

“Well - then I don't know what to tell you.”

Claudia looked at her for a minute, arms crossed. Then she shook her head and set down her pack.

“It’s been a long day for everyone. And - I don't think I said it earlier, but I’m grateful. You two may have saved my life. Whoever said whatever it was - I’m sure it will pass.”

Would it, though? She had never before looked at anyone with all that false confidence. Never brazenly invited them to lay with her. She had no idea how it would have ended if he had followed her - and no idea how it would end now. As Claudia undressed and began sponging herself off and preparing for bed, Ashara felt strangely adrift. She was floating, wasn't she? It must have been the cider. She sat down on the bed as if it would anchor her.

Why didn't he follow?

“Claudia -” She began hesitantly.

“Yes?”

_Do you think he likes me at all? Did I just ruin this - this thing all three of us have been building?_

“I’m sorry the templar got to you. I was so afraid for you.”

“That's sweet of you. It's not an experience I’ll be repeating, if I have any say about it. I don't think that's what you were going to say, though.”

Damn Claudia and her perceptiveness. She reminded Ashara of her mother in that sense. Canny and blunt.

_Mamae. We got the veridium. Dagna will be ready to try making the conduit by the time we get back to Val Chevin. That's all that should really matter._

“I’m going to bed. Go tell Lucius to be quiet when he comes in.”

“I will.”

She walked out of the door with exactly as much purpose as she’d invited Lucius up in the first place, and exactly as much fear. She didn’t make it back downstairs though - he was in the hall. He stopped walking when he saw her and watched her approach with something unreadable in his face, some intense emotion she couldn't quite name.

“Claudia’s back,” she said.

“I saw.”

Well, there was nothing for it but to say it.

“I’m sorry -”

“Don't apologize.”

“It was silly of me.”

“It wasn't.”

Wait.

“It wasn't?” She asked, voice lowering.

He laughed then, a quiet laugh, unlike what she’d heard before from him.

“We both need sleep,” he said, and walked past her towards their room.

“Lucius,” she said when he reached the door. “Before Claudia came back - were you going to come up?”

He hesitated, his hand on the handle.

“I don't know.”

He looked back at her, only a few feet away, and Ashara traced the shape of his mouth with her eyes, and wondered how many steps exactly there were between them.

“Good night,” she said.

“Good night,” he replied, and went inside.

She leaned against the wall for a little while after he went, giving him time to settle into bed, giving herself time to feel centered again. When she no longer felt full of excess energy and nerves she went in, and cleaned herself off as quickly as she could without looking at either bed, and then dressed again and slid in next to Claudia and tried to fall asleep as if nothing had ever happened, and she was not listening for the sound of his breathing in the next bed over, wondering what he was thinking now.

*

Ashara heard the call the moment she entered the Fade. Her spirit friend was back. She let herself be drawn by the song and could almost see the field when she remembered that she’d told Papae she would bring him this time - but a quick search didn't turn up a trace of him. It was late - unusual that he wasn't asleep yet. Maybe he had to wake up for one reason or another. Maybe he was disguising his aura. There was nothing for it, then. She would warn Claudia and then go.

This time Claudia was having a nightmare, surrounded by a ring of templars who grew taller and taller every moment, while she was rooted to the spot, powerless to move or speak. Ashara reached for a happier place, a quiet library like what she’d found Claudia in the last time she entered her dream, and pulled until they were both there. Claudia looked around in fear.

“It’s me, lethallan,” Ashara said, resting her hand on Claudia’s arm.

“Thank you,” she said. “I couldn't shake them off - not even in my mind.”

“It happens to everyone sometimes, no matter how well trained they are. I’m happy I was there.”

Claudia began rearranging books on the shelves, making a pattern - red, blue, gold, red, blue, gold. Already her spirit seemed calmer.

“Why were you there?” Claudia asked. “Did you need something?”

“I was going to go visit the spirit again. He’s calling. I was supposed to bring my father this time but I can't seem to find him. I thought I’d at least tell you where I was going, just in case.”

“Why not ask Lucius?” Claudia said, something playful in her tone.

“Because - I don't want to go into his dream right now.”

“Because…?”

She wasn’t going to let this go. Ashara sighed.

“...earlier, when we were drinking cider and waiting for you and making jokes about the people in the bar - I sort of - asked him to come back to the room with me.”

“I knew it,” Claudia said, closing a book she’d picked up with a snap. “And then I came in. Did you really not think that part through? Imagine what I could have walked in on.”

It was a good thing Ashara could actually prevent herself from blushing in the Fade.

“I don’t even know if he was going to come up or not. I’d been waiting when you came in.”

“Go see what he’s dreaming about,” Claudia said with a smile. “That should tell you.”

“I would never - that would be a terrible violation of his trust!”

“Relax. It was a joke. I’ll come with you to meet this spirit, and I’ll be sure to knock whenever I enter a room from now on.”

For the first time, Ashara was happy to see the spirit called Friend. He looked different again - red hair and brown eyes this time, and a dimpled chin like her father’s. His eyebrows drew together in disapproval the same way Papae’s did, too.

“You’ve brought a human,” he said in Elvhen.

“Yes. My friend was curious to meet you,” she said in Trade. “Do you still understand me?”

His eyes slid back and forth between them again, then continued in Elvhen. “Yes. Though I’d prefer to speak in our tongue.”

If Ashara had ever doubted that he was Elvhen before, she certainly didn’t doubt it now. He was the picture of haughtiness and cold reserve and perfect posture and ageless danger.

Claudia looked to her. “Should I leave?”

“No, but he will continue to speak Elvhen. He can understand us, though,” she turned back to him. “I heard you calling for me again this evening, Friend. Was there something you wanted?”

“The same as I have said before. The pleasure of your company, and to help you. Have you found what you sought?”

“Yes. We have stormheart and veridium, both touched by the Fade, and an enchanter who believes the work can be done.”

“Why would your mother need such a curious contraption?”

“A powerful curse,” she said. “Nothing else can remove it.”

“Do you know the source of this curse?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell me what it is?”

“No.”

He smiled. “Someone must have taught you such mistrust. Who was it?”

“My father taught me to deal carefully with spirits - not to mistrust them. He wants to meet you too, by the way. Perhaps I can bring him another night.”

“Perhaps you shall," he replied. He walked away from them for a moment, towards a tree that she'd seen in the field several times before. It didn't seem to get any closer as they walked - some trick of the Fade. He stopped, and turned to face them again. "This curse - does it affect your mother’s body? Her mind?”

“Her body.”

He nodded thoughtfully. It was another gesture that reminded her, oddly, of Papae - something in the rhythm of it, the way his eyes grew more distant with thought. “Remember that magic lives in the blood, child.”

Ashara tilted her head in confusion. “Well, yes, but what does that have to do with this?”

He smiled again, wide enough to show his teeth. It made her shiver, even in the Fade. It was not a kind smile. “It means that I have an idea. I will spend some time searching, and return to you with it. Be well, child.”

Then the field was gone, and so was he. Ashara summoned the library again, and Claudia looked around in wonder.

“Does that ever get old? I can’t believe how _real_ the Fade is when I’m with you. The sights, the sounds…” She trailed off and spun in a slow circle, studying the books.

“I should ask Papae to take us somewhere. He makes me look like the student I am. The way the Fade reacts to him and the way he shapes it - it’s incredible. I hope one day I’ll have his skill.”

“That spirit reminded me of your father, a little. I’ve only met him a handful of times, but there was something about him.”

“I saw it too. Strange. He could be a relative, I suppose - he doesn’t look much like Papae, but he keeps changing his appearance, so that’s nothing we can rely on.”

Ashara stayed in the library a little longer, until she wanted to be alone with her thoughts so she could truly rest and draw strength from the Fade. As she began to drift away from the dream, Claudia spoke to her.

“Going to go and see Lucius?” She teased.

“No,” Ashara replied, shortly. “He’s probably dreaming of - talking nugs or something. Good night, Claudia.”

“Or…” She called out teasingly.

Or.

Or there was a demon of desire wearing her face underneath him, crying out his name in her voice, touching and tasting him as she hadn't yet. No, she didn't want to see that. Instead she drifted into a restful state and thought of how his hand felt underneath hers as they sat together in the mine - large and solid and yet trembling with fear.

*

Dagna didn’t even say hello when they returned to Val Chevin.

“The amulets of power!” She cried out instead when she opened the door. “I thought of it right after you left, of course, so I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but I did get a chance to go through all my old diagrams and notes from the Inquisition and I found the specifications for the Inquisitor’s amulet and I think it could work!”

“I’m sorry - what’s an amulet of power?” Claudia asked. They were still in the door, still covered in the dust of the road, their bags in their hands.

“They were amulets designed to be unique to each member of the Inner Circle - I enchanted them so that they reacted to each person’s individual strengths and bolstered them. It was essentially a study in specialized spirit runes -”

“Dagna, love - just a thought here - d’you think they’d like to put their bags down first, before you go all enchanty on them?” Sera asked from where she stood, further down the hall.

“Oh - right. Sorry!”

Once their bags were put away and food was on the table, she was able to continue her explanation of the amulets themselves - how they were keyed to the spirit of each person, and how that meant that Dagna could now key the conduit to Ellana specifically.

“That was the last piece we needed,” Ashara said. Her heart was beating faster. The awe was spreading down from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes.

“Well, as far as we can tell - yes,” Dagna said.

“And the local Chantry is taking a close look at the mine again,” Sera added. “Not sure if it was Prissypants or Danglebag, but one of them hired that templar. Maybe they’ll put enough pressure on them to resolve the dispute and get the mine running again. That’d be grand.”

So she’d been right.

She wasn't just making a mess of things as she went along.

This could all turn out right.

“How long will it take to make the conduit, do you think?”

“Just a week, I think.”

“Then I guess we’ll settle in for a bit, if that's alright with you,” Ashara said.

“It would be a our pleasure,” Dagna beamed.

They went back to the rooms where they’d stayed before leaving for the mine - Claudia and Ashara to one bed, and Lucius in a room across the hall. That night when Ashara entered the Fade she didn’t hear Friend’s call - or, once again, her father’s. Strange. She wanted to tell him of their success with the veridium and Dagna’s with the runes. Was something wrong? No. She would be the first person to find out if something was wrong. He would find her. She was sure of it.

She was exploring memories of Val Chevin, looking for something interesting to show Claudia and Lucius, when the sound rang out: the kind of booming noise you felt in your chest. She was awake in instants, as was Claudia. They both scrambled for the door in their loose tunics and leggings, desperate to determine the source of it. Lucius was in the hall too, scanning, magic humming around him in preparation.

“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry, everyone,” Dagna called from the bottom of the stairs. “Small mishap! Nothing is currently on fire. I just wanted to get an early start today. Go back to sleep!”

Ashara rubbed her eyes and saw by the light coming from the window at the end of the hall that it was still early. She wasn’t too irritated - she herself liked to get up early and begin the day’s work - but Claudia was still swearing under her breath as she returned to their room.

“At least I wasn’t the only terrified one,” Lucius said, walking over to her.

“Who says I was terrified?”

“Please. You should have seen your face.” He was looking at her face intently now. She felt warmer from it and looked away, towards his room - only it wasn’t a bedroom, but a study with a couch that now had a pillow and blanket on it.

“You’re sleeping in there?”

“It’s not so bad. It’s a good couch. You got a scar,” he said suddenly - he’d still been studying her while she looked away. Her shirt had shifted in the rush, nearly falling off one shoulder, and the pink line was clearly visible. He reached up and ran his thumb down it from where it began near her neck to her collarbone. Her skin prickled and her breath got slower, like she could prolong the contact.

“It’s fine,” she said.

“I’m sorry I froze.”

“It’s fine,” she said, and caught hold of his hand where it rested against her collarbone. “Besides, I’d say your sleeping arrangements are punishment enough.”

“Are you still offering an alternative?”

_So he was still thinking about it._

“Whoever said I was going to let you _sleep_ there?” She said, reaching for that confidence again.

“How cruel you are.”

She smirked at him and moved a little closer, and tilted her chin up. He held very still.

“Not as cruel as you,” she said.

For one, two, three heartbeats he looked down at her. Then he cupped the back of her head and pulled her close, and his lips were on hers. A firm press, just once, more a response to her unspoken dare than anything else, but it still made every nerve fire all at once like a little bolt of lightning. Then he pulled back all the way, until they weren’t touching at all anymore, and looked at her for another heartbeat before he spoke.

“I’m going back to sleep,” he said. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He disappeared back into his room and Ashara stood there in the hall until she finally stopped smiling like a fool.

*

It had been four days since Solas heard from his daughter. It was the longest he’d ever gone without hearing her voice, he realized. Even with all her time in Tevinter, she’d always checked in every other evening or so, or used the crystal during the day. And even when she didn't check in, he could always sense her somewhere in the Fade at night, however distant.

And on the previous night, he hadn't sensed her at all.

It was irrational and unproductive to worry, he told himself that morning. There were any number of reasons for her to spend a sleepless night. It wasn't possible that it was anything worse. He had to convince himself of that.

The words on the page in front of him swam a little. He’d woken with a headache, tired from how long he’d searched the Fade for his own answers that night. He was even a little cold - his mana was sluggish and slow to respond and his usual unconscious warming spell kept faltering. All night he’d dredged up ancient memories, combed through them for specifics, played and replayed them, yet he had so little to show for it.

The ritual he’d remembered, the early attempt to remove vallaslin - it was blood magic of a particularly powerful kind. He shouldn't have been surprised. But the slaves he found speaking of it didn't know how it was done, or who had developed it - and it was so awful to see such things again - all of them so thin and starved and hopeless -

“What’s wrong?”

Ellana’s hand was cool against his cheek. She brought with her the smell of earth and herbs - she’d been in the garden. He breathed it in and kissed her palm, just for the sake of familiar calluses against his lips.

“I had a frustrating night,” he said when her hand fell to his shoulder.

“Tell me.”

Solas closed his eyes and leaned back against her.

“I can't find the memory I need, and the search exhausts me. I also haven't heard from Ashara in several days.”

“Oh - well, we know she made it to Val Chevin. Surely Sera or Dagna would have written if anything happened. Word wouldn't have taken long to arrive.” She was trying to sound reassuring, though he knew her well enough to hear the concern that tinged her words.

“I know. Still - last night I did not sense her at all. Not even once.”

“Couldn’t that be because of how hard you were searching for other things, emma lath?”

“You could be right.”

“That does happen every now and then, you know.”

Her sarcastic tone might have ordinarily earned her a quip in return, but he sighed instead, as another pain spiked in his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Ellana said. “Here.”

She massaged his temples as well as she could, though it was hard with one hand, and then slowly moved on to his neck where it met his skull. He couldn't help but groan at how good it felt.

“She’s fine, vhenan,” she said. “I’m - fine. You’re doing everything you can.”

He let go of the impulse to disagree with her and instead fell into the rhythm of her fingers as she worked, centering himself by focusing on his breathing and pulse, letting his mind wander. The sound of his own heartbeat and the dull buzz of his low mana brought to mind one of the oldest lessons he knew - _magic lives in the blood_. Why was that elementary phrase running through his mind now? Of course it lived in the blood - why else could it power spells, and why else did mages beget other mages? There were implications for what that could mean for Ellana, but none that he liked or knew how to put into practice -

“This isn’t working, is it?”

Damn. He was tense all over again.

“It isn’t you, ma’asha. I did not rest enough last night. My mana feels low and I am - irritated. I will take lyrium and see if I can't meditate and try again. Are you well? Do you need me?” He rose and turned to see her at last. Her lips were set in a firm line that he knew at once.

“Not as my healer, no. But I would love to go on a walk with my bondmate, while I feel well.”

It still made his heart warm when she called him that, even six (nearly seven, he supposed) months after the ceremony. Taking the lyrium would soothe the headache and then he could enjoy the walk and the woman at his side. He could at least try to push the other thoughts aside.

“Then let us go,” he said, though as they walked he could not help but think of the blood in his veins, and of the absence of another set of footsteps alongside their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know Dagna definitely doesn't make the amulets of power in Inquisition, but... it was an idea I couldn't resist!
> 
> Next up: we make the journey back to Skyhold to finally try out the experiment! Theoretically! I laugh when I look at my initial notes for this story, not least because of how much further I thought I'd be by chapter ten.
> 
> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/).


	10. The Weight of Memory, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we abuse Latin and use it as Tevene, get some flashbacks via the Fade (which are essentially deleted scenes from the previous two fics), and watch Lucius have a crisis of conscience.

Lucius was cautious leaving his room later that morning. He hadn’t gone back to sleep, naturally, though he tried to clear his mind. He succeeded in that he didn’t think about anything in particular while he laid there. He failed in that the feeling of Ashara’s lips - and the texture of her hair - and the nearness of her body to his, so close but not touching - wouldn’t leave him. And why not linger on those impressions? It had been a while since a woman showed any particular interest. It seemed like a harmless enough flirtation. She wasn’t declaring her undying love.

Of course, as he shaved, another thought drifted in. He needed to go to the inn and check for a message from Corix. That was why this wasn’t harmless.

Hence the caution when he left his room. Ideally, he would make it to and from the inn whose address he’d used without being noticed. No. Ideally, he didn’t need to wheedle at the feet of some magister for a chance at a decent life. Ideally he didn’t lie to the woman who was his friend, first and foremost.

What if he just outright lied to Corix, instead? Would he really find out?

That thought was new - and worth considering. It filled him up as he walked, even as he opened the letter waiting for him.

_Talvas -_

_Personal still matters. We don’t know why Ellana Lavellan resigned her post, but there are reports that she is gravely ill. Anything that gives us insight into this is worth it. Never forget how dangerous the Dread Wolf is. If Lavellan was the one thing that stopped his madness in the first place, what will happen if (when) she dies? This isn’t just your duty as an apprentice, but as a citizen of the Imperium - as a citizen of Thedas._

 

_C _orix__

 

He was right.

Had Lucius himself not said the same things about Fen’Harel? To Ashara, no less?

Then it was time to ask. Time to see the other side.

He’d been too late in leaving - Ashara and Claudia were both downstairs when he returned. Claudia, it would appear, was bent to the task of writing her own letter.

“On dhea - you shaved!” Ashara said on seeing him.

“Yes,” he replied slowly. “Is that so surprising?”

“Well, no.” She looked down at the empty plate in front of her.

“I think she liked the stubble,” Claudia said with a sly smile, which caused Ashara to make an indignant noise and snatch one of the flaky, buttery pastries from the plate in front of Claudia. “Give that back!”

“No,” Ashara said, taking an assured, defiant bite - and then groaning and saying something in Elvhen.

“You’re buying me another one,” Claudia grumbled.

“Fine. How do you say ‘delicious’ in Tevene?”

“Depends,” she replied as Lucius settled into an empty seat. “Are you talking about a person, or an object?”

“Well, now I’m curious about person.”

“Deliciae,” Lucius said, his eyes on Ashara’s. Claudia looked at him, eyebrows raised. It was a rather - dirty nickname for someone.

“Yes. Like that - although that’s only for a woman. Well then. Where were you off to this morning, Lucius?” Claudia asked.

A lie flickered through his mind and nearly rose to his lips. Then he stopped, and changed course.

“I sent a letter to Magister Corix recently. I went to see if there was a reply.”

His heart thudded in his chest. How would they respond? Claudia just made a sound of acknowledgement and kept writing. Ashara just kept eating her pilfered pastry, daintily licking the crumbs of her lips and fingertips, making sounds of enjoyment that made his skin feel warm and tight.

“You’re a better apprentice than me,” Claudia said. “I’m only just now writing Dorian.”

Idiot. Of course it wasn’t surprising that he wrote to Corix.

“I guess I should write to my parents,” Ashara said. “Or, well, search for my mother in the Fade. I haven’t tried that yet. I just can’t seem to find Papae.”

“Is that normal?” Lucius asked, though he felt distant from the conversation. At least he'd begun telling them. Maybe he could keep going, if Ashara could prove to him that Corix was wrong, that it wasn’t his duty as a citizen of Thedas to oppose her father.

“No. I’m not sure what to make of it.”

“Could it be the spirit? I still don’t like him, even after last night,” Claudia said.

“You went to meet the spirit together? I’d have liked to come,” Lucius said, surprised by how hurt he felt. Claudia and Ashara shared a look, and Ashara blushed. It made her freckles stand out more, he noticed.

“Oh, I suggested it,” Claudia said, the shy smile returning. “Someone was afraid to see what you were dreaming of.”

“That’s it,” Ashara said, rising from the table. “I’m not buying you any pastries at all today. What should we do instead?”

“There’s a good deal of Val Chevin we haven’t seen yet,” Claudia suggested.

“That’s true. Let’s go wandering.”

It was a pleasant enough day, thought Lucius found it to be a little cold for the time of year, and he couldn’t stop his mind racing, even while Claudia and Ashara admired architecture and dresses and discussed the oddities of the masks Orlesians wore. The only stillness he found was when Ashara relented and bought all three of them pastries, warm and flaky and this time filled with chocolate, and they sat together in a quiet, tree-lined courtyard.

“I haven’t had a chance to search for interesting memories here yet,” Ashara said while they ate. “Maybe I’ll do that tonight.”

The stillness fled - here was a chance.

“I was wondering,” he said. “Can you find memories of almost anything?”

“That is a question with a very long answer. Yes and no - it depends on a lot of things. Why do you ask?”

“Well, we’re going to Skyhold once Dagna is done here, and I’ll be meeting your parents. It’s a bit - intimidating. Maybe you could show us some of your memories of them? If that’s possible. And fine with you.”

“I’d be happy to. I’ll need to think about where to start first, but I don't see why not,” Ashara said, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she got her smile from one of them.

*

Dagna said she would need three days to craft the conduit, and then a day of thorough tests, which left plenty of time for exploring Val Chevin and the Fade.

“Let’s start with this memory,” Ashara said the first night, after she found both Lucius and Claudia in their own dreams. “It’s from their time in the Inquisition, not far from here in the Emerald Graves. It’s my mother’s memory.”

Suddenly, they were surrounded by rich green foliage, a river over a rocky bed - everything was so _real_ , not like a normal dream at all - and then there were the demons, pouring from a green rift in the sky. Actual real demons, in a dream real enough that Lucius’s breath grew short. A massive pride demon, despair demons, terror demons, all shrieking and rending the air with lightning and ice and smoke and claws.

“Bull, the big one!” A female elf - the Inquisitor - she looked just like the picture he’d seen in an fellow mage's house once, brown skin and short red hair - there was no time to observe more because she loosed one, two, three arrows, leapt out of the way of an incoming swipe from the pride demon, only to be taken down by the terror demon as it appeared from the ground  - how had anyone survived such horrors?

“On it, Boss,” the qunari shouted, and then bellowed in rage. There was a flash of purple smoke and Lucius turned to see Magister Pavus, so much younger, and such a force of nature as he called forth lightning. The wraiths were still volleying ice, first at the qunari, and then at the Inquisitor, severing the slender green ribbon of energy she’d sent towards the rift ( _that_ was what they looked like). Then Lucius turned again and saw another force of nature, the other elf - Fen’Harel. Tall and pale and swirling his staff around him and casting a series of barriers barrier and freezing glyphs and -

Getting caught in the electric whip of the pride demon, dragged down, and crushed.

“Solas needs help!” the Inquisitor shouted, desperate. Solas. That's right. Not Fen’Harel.

He couldn't hear anyone else over the din - she swore and dove towards his prone form as the qunari drove the demon back. The memory shifted then, the fighting growing dim, focusing on the sight of his face, so ashen now.

“No, no, no,” she said, throwing down her bow and scrambling for a potion.

“Now, Ellana!”

She whirled and raised her left hand and the green energy burst forth again, latched onto the rift. The air roared with the power, growing louder and louder, until she pulled hard and it snapped shut, vanishing. But that didn't seem to matter at all. The details grew fuzzy once more, except for him. Solas. Lucius tested the name again in his mind.

“Please,” she said, pulling his torso into her lap, holding the potion she’d pulled out to his lips. “Drink, Solas, drink - Dorian, get here now!”

They got him to drink the potion, and Pavus cast a weak healing spell, cursing all the while (“He shouldn't have been trying to keep barriers on all of us. What was he thinking? Arrogant fool.”), and slowly the elf opened his eyes. Eyes that he saw, at once, were Ashara’s, and it filled him with a feeling like vertigo.

“Back with the living?” the qunari said.

“I was not dead,” Solas replied. His voice was softer than Lucius would have guessed.

“Well, you did a marvelous impression,” Pavus replied.

“Perhaps to your eyes,” he said, evenly, leaning away from the Inquisitor, struggling to his feet.

“Are all mages so bitchy, or is it just you two?” the qunari mused.

“Enough,” the Inquisitor said, standing. “That - was one hell of a fight. I know it means doubling back, but I think we should go back to the nearest camp. You may not have died, Solas, but you certainly tried to.”

“You’re the boss,” the qunari said. “Let’s go.”

Pavus and the qunari walked ahead, but the Inquisitor hesitated, turning back to Solas. He was leaning heavily on his staff. She was rubbing her left arm and wincing.

“It hurts today,” he said.

“Yes,” she replied. “But not as much as seeing you like that did. Creators, Solas -”

His eyes flicked ahead to the other two, then back to her. Assured they weren't looking, he pulled her close and pressed their foreheads together…

Ashara let the memory fade.

“I wanted to start here because I think it shows one thing people forget about my father. He’s as vulnerable as anyone else, when he lets his guard down.”

“Vulnerable?” Claudia snorted. “I’m amazed anyone walked away from that fight.”

“That rift was bad. That was only the second wave that we saw. Mamae still talks about it.”

“Did you find her tonight?” Lucius asked.

“I did. I told her that Dagna is hard at work, and that we should be on our way to Skyhold in three more days. Would you like to see a funny memory I found here in Val Chevin? A man caught his wife’s lover in their bed and chased him naked around the block a hundred years ago. It’s quite a sight.”

“You should find a funny memory of your parents, next,” Lucius said.

“I’m surprised by your fascination,” Ashara replied.

“I want to know them better. As people, not as what I learned about in school,” Lucius said. It was the truth. Corix or no, that one glimpse had been intriguing. To see the sweat in their eyes, the blood on their armor. To hear the sounds of their voices. He wondered how far the gap could grow between what he knew and what the truth was.

*

The next night Ashara took them to a memory of her own: a small house filled with natural light, with simple curving lines and murals on the wall in a strange, minimalist style he didn't recognize.

“Our home in Enasan,” she said by way of explanation. Then, catching “Those are Papae’s murals. I always wished - well, you’ll see.”

A little child, no older than five, was standing in front of a mural that appeared to be only half-finished. It was a woman, Lucius guessed, but her lower half wasn't finished; it looked like the dress or tunic was supposed to be finished in a forest green. The child - Ashara, of course - stood there, thoughtfully considering, then began opening the various pots of paints around her. More consideration, and then she picked up a brush and dipped it in one pot and then made a confident stroke the color of limes.

“Oh dear,” Claudia said. “Why aren't they watching you?”

“You’ll see.”

Little Ashara stared at the swath of green paint, and at her brush, and then dipped it in another pot and made another stroke. This one was far too dark. More thought, and then she dipped the brush in both pots and painted over both swaths - and a muddled greenish-yellow appeared.

“You had the right idea,” Lucius offered. Ashara - the real one - just laughed, as her younger self began frantically covering the area she’d painted with more green paint, until it was all but black. And then, of course, her hand slipped, leaving a wide streak of color across one of the already finished parts of the mural.

“Ashara?” Solas appeared, and though it had been nearly a decade since the memory they saw the night before, he hadn't aged a day. This time he wore a brown tunic and lighter leggings. Not armor, or rich robes - the clothes of a simple man. His eyes went wide and he said something in Elvhen that made his daughter freeze and look back at him with the same wide blue eyes. She replied in Elvhen, and then her older self interrupted.

“A moment - I wonder if I can…”

“I was helping,” her younger self said then, in Trade. “But the paint - it plays tricks - and - then I tried to fix it - and -”

“Be still, little one,” he said, crouching down and gently taking the brush. “I am not angry. Just surprised. Mamae and I didn't realize you left. Why did you want to help?”

“You and Mamae were sad. You were talking quiet. And not looking at each other’s eyes. And not making me eat the greens. Painting makes you happy, so…”

Solas’s face softened further, and he put the paintbrush down.

“I am sorry, Papae,” she said.

“Don't be, little heart,” he replied, and held her close, and the memory faded.

“I thought this was supposed to be a funny memory,” Claudia said. “That was sweet. Do you remember why your parents were sad?”

“I don't know. I’d have to ask. Anyway, it was what came to mind when I entered the Fade tonight. I always wished I got my father’s skill in painting. I remember so clearly how afraid I was when I saw how I’d ruined the mural, and how happy I was when he embraced me instead.”

“Why?” Lucius asked. “Does he have a temper?”

“Yes and no,” she said. “You could know him for years and never see it, but when you do… In that moment, though, I was just a child who thought she was in trouble. Nothing more. Looks like Claudia wandered off, by the way. It's always interesting trying to keep track of non-Dreamers.”

Lucius wished fiercely he knew what she meant by that. What was it like to have the Fade so open to you?

“You haven't changed much, I guess,” he said, still considering the memory. The simplicity of it. The naturalness. A father and his daughter. No ancient, vengeful demigod in sight.

“How so?” Ashara asked.

“You want to help others. And you are a bit impulsive, you know.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” she replied airily, as though earlier that day, in the shade of a blue-roofed building, while Claudia was searching for somewhere to eat, she had not reached out and run her hand along his newly-stubbled jaw. Like she hadn't wrinkled her nose in shock and delight at the feel of it, and then blushed when she realized what she’d done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part one of a two part update (this chapter got waaaay away from me) - part two will be up later tonight or tomorrow evening! I'm just being indecisive about these goofballs.
> 
> Thanks as always for kudos and comments and all of that - I still can’t believe anyone is reading this! I love hearing your thoughts. Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/).


	11. The Weight of Memory, Part Two*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand here is part two! For anyone avoiding smutty bits - Lucius opens here with a somewhat explicit memory of his first time (skip to the double asterisk ** to avoid it), and the chapter ends with some smuttiness as well (you can stop at the triple asterisk *** and skip the entire section, or stop where it says "The night before they’d stayed in a crowded room with others..." if you want to read the SFW part of the section.)

Lucius woke the next day thinking of Octavia for the first time in years. Tall, pale in that way that Altus families prized, and yet not gifted magically in the way that was even more important. How she struggled with even their simplest tests as they both turned sixteen and the demands of the Vyrantium Circle grew. How he lay awake at night in the dorms, waiting until he was certain everyone else was asleep, to touch himself and think of the sway of her breasts as she fumbled with her staff.

She had everything he wished he had, of course. Except for the magic. And that was why she needed him. Needed his help with extra practice. Why he helped her with her studies and then one day managed to stammer out his admiration of her. And he, for all that his skin was darker, for all that he didn't even have enough money to take her to dinner - he was the only reason she could cast a glyph and make it stick long enough to pass.

“Very well then,” she said in response to his confession, and began unbuckling her robes, even though he hadn't said anything about sex.

Lying there on the couch, eight years later, hearing the other members of the house stirring outside, Lucius remembered slowly pressing into Octavia’s wet heat and feeling sick and joyful all at once, knowing she didn't really want him, but also choking on the feeling of being so _held_ by her body, of being buried deep in another person. Of being temporarily not alone.

He heard Ashara’s laugh and the clatter of plates. Shook the memory from himself. It wasn't a good one. Why was he thinking of it?

“On dhea,” Ashara greeted him when he came downstairs.

“I suggested we go in search of some art classes today,” Claudia said. “Maybe one of us will be more skilled than Ash.”

“If this keeps up, no more memories,” Ashara grumbled.

The thought filled Lucius with dread. How was he supposed to decide which letter he’d written should be sent? He’d seen that her father wasn't an unstoppable force of nature (though from his understanding, he had grown in power since those days), that he was in fact a good and kind father - but that meant nothing. And he had to decide which letter to send so he knew whether or not it was okay that he responded to each and every one of her coy jabs, making Claudia roll her eyes.

If she did really want him - he had to at least give her better than what he’d had for his first time. Better than a memory she would think back on years from now with a stone in her stomach.

**

That night Ashara showed them a memory of her father and the Orlesian Divine, Victoria - or, Cassandra, as Lucius was informed. They were in the field somewhere - in an army camp from what he could tell by the tents.

“I really can't believe you insist on calling me Your Holiness,” she said. “You aren't even Andrastian. You aren't even…”

Solas inclined his head towards her. They were sitting at a small table strewn with maps. It looked like he was wearing some kind of armor, though much finer than what he’d been wearing in the first memory Ashara showed them.

“As I told you when you remarked on me calling you Seeker - it is simply good manners.”

“Then should I call you Fen’Harel?”

“If you wish. Though I prefer Solas.”

There was another pause - one where they both simply looked at each other. The Divine sighed and then shook her head, and spoke again.

“I heard this was Ellana’s idea. Speaking to each of us. Seeking our forgiveness.”

“Yes, though I think it is a good one, if - implausible. I can't imagine that many of you will forgive me.”

The Divine snorted at that.

“After the surrender, Mamae made him do this before she would even consider judging him for what he'd done,” Ashara added.

“What did you believe in back then, Solas?” The Divine asked, her Nevarran accent making his name come out sharper, less sibilant.

“In the time of Elvhenan? The same as I have said before. I believe in people.”

“So you kept no gods?”

“No.”

They were silent again, though neither of them looked terribly uncomfortable. Then again, Lucius found Solas hard to read now. He’d been more expressive in the previous memory. How many years between this one and that one? Six, or so? Perhaps he changed in that time.

“It is hard to believe,” the Divine began again. “That something I believed created by the Maker - the very Veil itself - was made by a man I once personally witnessed set his own coat on fire.”

Solas laughed, a gentle, almost sad sound. “I can imagine. Has it shaken your faith, Your Holiness?”

“I would be lying if I said it didn't. There are those who say that you lie about the Veil in order to preserve their faith. I imagine that is comforting for them. I find that more difficult to do.”

For the first time, Solas dropped his gaze. He did not lift it as he spoke.

“Cassandra,” he said. “You are the first I have spoken to in this mission. I am not sure how I am meant to do this. But - I ask for your forgiveness. If for nothing else, than for being something - someone - that shook your faith. I cannot pretend I have any love for the Chantry, for the role it played in the elves’ demise. I can't regret doing what I have done to restore them some measure of power. But your faith remains an admirable thing, and many people will need it in the years to come, if we are to arrive at a world we can all live in.”

The Divine crossed her arms.

“So you believe in this world now? After all that you’ve done?”

Solas looked up at that.

“By the end of our time with the Inquisition, I did, even when I didn't want to.”

“And what will you do now that you have chosen to accept that belief?”

“I will bear the weight of my responsibility to this world.”

“And to Ellana?”

For the first time, a look of discomfort passed over the elf’s face. Before he could reply, the dream faded, and Lucius was once more standing with Ashara and Claudia in a forest that Ashara seemed fond of conjuring.

“Was what he said there genuine? About having a responsibility to the world?” Lucius asked.

“This was Aunt Cass’s memory, so she remembers it as genuine. And from everything I’ve known of him, my whole life - he means it.” Ashara’s voice was calm, assured.

“We were always told that no one knew his true motives for surrendering. And we were certainly never taught that he apologized to anyone for what he did,” Claudia said.

“I can see why it’s hard to believe,” Ashara replied. A little less assured now.

The forest flickered, and then they were standing on a street in what appeared to be an older version of Val Chevin. Ashara took it in with a gesture he now recognized from someone else.

“He does the same thing you do,” Lucius said. “That little tilt of his head when he’s considering something.”

“I don’t think it’s that uncommon,” she said.

“Still. It’s - reassuring to see something familiar in him. Something I associate with you. I do like you, after all.”

“Really, now?” Ashara replied with a sly little smile, as the dream began to fade. “Interesting.”

*

“Today’s the day everyone,” Dagna said the next morning. “No wandering off on adventures. I have a few last minute adjustments, and then I want you to give this guy a test. I’ve done all the testing I can - now it’s time for a mage.”

Today was in fact the day. Lucius needed to send his reply. There was no excuse for delaying any further. He knew now which one he would send. He just needed to figure out when, where, how to tell her.

She was exhilarated; he was nauseated.

“I can’t believe it,” Ashara said, pacing the sitting room while they waited for Dagna to give them the all-clear to come into her forge. “This has been all I dreamed of, all I worked for, since I was sixteen. We finally figured it out. Mamae is going to be fine.”

“We still have to test it,” Claudia warned.

“It will work. There’s no way it won’t.”

Lucius drummed his fingers on the table. He had the letter in his pocket. There was a lull in the conversation. Now was as good a time as any. He leaned forward and said her name - and then Dagna appeared.

“Ready? Let’s give this a shot.”

“Outside! No magic business in the house!” Sera shouted from somewhere else.

“Yes, yes. Outside.”

They had a little yard behind their house, and though most of it was taken up by Dagna’s forge, there was just enough space for all four of them to stand in a circle, staring at the orb the dwarf held. The sun glinted off of the glossy stormheart exterior, and even without touching it, Lucius could feel the hum of the enchantment surrounding it. Dagna explained how to activate the runes, and Claudia did so.

“Well - pull something Fade-y into it,” Dagna said.

Ashara closed her eyes and took a centering breath, and Lucius felt the flare of her power as she began to pull sharply on the Fade, until a swirling green point appeared above her.

“Pull on it,” she said to Claudia. “Pull it towards the orb - rift magic is not so different from spirit magic - just -”

There was some fumbling, and Ashara let the spell recede, and then they tried again, and this time, with only a slight tug on Ashara’s part, the green energy flowed slowly toward the orb.

“Perfect,” Dagna said. “With two rift mages, and with the energy that aligns better with the spirit rune, it should go even more smoothly. I just wanted to make sure that the Veil was attracted to it.”

“This is - Dagna, thank you.” Ashara bent down and hugged the dwarf hard, knocking the wind out of her temporarily.

“Easy there! It was no problem. None of us would be standing here if it wasn’t for your mother.”

“It’ll take us a fortnight to reach Skyhold. We should leave today, while there’s still light. I’ll write to my parents right now so they know to expect us.”

Ashara Fade stepped away, leading to a squawk from inside the house. It wouldn’t take her long to write the letter. This was a perfect opportunity. Lucius’s feet still dragged as he followed her.

“Ashara,” he began. She didn’t turn. She hadn’t even sat down to write the letter. She was bent over the table, scratching hastily at a parchment.

“Yes?” She asked absently.

“When you send that, I have something to send too.”

“Very well.”

“It’s for Magister Corix.”

She made an assenting noise.

“It’s about you.”

Now she paused.

“Oh?”

“He - when he said I could come with you to Orlais, it was only because he wanted me to spy on you. To find about your family. About the state of the Veil in Enasan, for whatever reason. Something about it being odd.”

She put down the quill and stood up straight.

“What have you told him?” He’d expected her to be angry, for her voice to have a hard edge. Instead it was soft and disbelieving.

“Nothing yet. I was vague. Evasive. He isn’t taking that anymore. So I’ve - I’m going to lie to him. Here.”

He handed her the letter. Her eyes stayed on him even after she’d taken it. Then she read.

“You told him I needed stormheart and veridium because I’m studying Enasan’s exports.” Her voice was still oddly flat.

“And I said your mother was fine as far as I knew. Just tired of many years in the public eye.”

She nodded slowly, then handed the paper back to him.

“Well? Are you - are you angry at me?” He asked.

“Is he the reason you came with us?” she said.

“No.”

“What will happen to you if he finds out you’re lying?”

He laughed, though it was a joyless sound. He was trying not to think about it mostly. “I’ll figure it out, I guess.”

She nodded. She looked at him for another long moment. Then she turned back to her parchment and kept writing. Just as Lucius was turning to go, she spoke again.

“I’ll make sure the letter gets sent. You’ll be ready to leave when I come back?”

“Of course.”

Lucius wondered as he left why he didn’t feel any lighter.

*

Ashara was quiet as they finished their preparations to leave, right up until the moment when Sera and Dagna said good-bye.

“Say hi to your mum,” Sera said. “And remind her that I made the killing shot at Adamant. She’ll know what I mean.”

That won her a laugh, and of course Dagna got another rib-squeezing hug. “Be careful,” she admonished. “Don’t go wandering around through the mountains. Just take the pilgrims’ paths.”

“I know, I know.”

“And _please_ write the second you can about what happens.”

“I will. I’d say I would come to you in the Fade and tell you, but… maybe I’ll just visit Sera, instead.”

“Or you could, you know. Not. Do creepy Fade things.”

Once their house receded in distance, Ashara was quiet again. She remained so when they bought supplies, and when they acquired horses, and of course while they rode. She did not come to him in the Fade that night - but she smiled at him the next morning when they woke up. They pushed the horses hard the next day and made it to the port town where they would cross the sea - and of course they couldn’t cross that day, and had to wait for morning.

The night before they’d stayed in a crowded room with others - that night, they were lucky enough to have a room to themselves. Lucius dropped like a stone into his bed, relieved to sleep without the touch of strangers. But just as he began to drift away, he felt a weight on the bed beside him.

“Now I’m worried.”

“Ash?” he blinked a few times, waiting for his eyes to adjust. She was sitting on the bed beside him. Her bed had been the one in the middle; Claudia was on the other side of the room, already fast asleep as far as he could tell.

“Who else? I’m worried. What will happen to you if Corix realizes you’re lying?”

“He won’t want me as an apprentice anymore. He barely wants me now.”

“And if you don’t have a sponsor?”

“I don’t become a full Enchanter of the Circle. My future options become... limited.”

His eyes had adjusted. He could see the way she was biting her lip.

“And you’re sure you’ve told him nothing about me or my family that could be damaging?”

“Of course. Ash - it’s my problem. Not yours.”

She sighed and laid down beside him - still on top of the covers, but close enough that her arm was brushing his. Lucius held himself as still as he could. He hadn’t looked away from her face, but he’d shared a room with her often enough to know that she wore a simple tunic, and leggings, and nothing more.

“I’m happy you told the truth,” she offered a moment later.

“So am I.”

She lay at his side, breathing slowly - then she rolled over just as slowly - and then she pressed her lips to his. It was a gentle kiss - a searching one - one that made him clench his hands against the urge to deepen it. But she did it first - a little flick of her tongue against his lips. He parted them for her and she sank against him, half on-top of him now, one hand on his cheek, and he was getting hard - and this was not the time or the place -

“We are _not_ doing this with Claudia lying ten feet away,” he murmured, pulling away. Her response was to pull away - only to slide under the covers with him.

“What about this?” She slid her hand between them and took hold of him through his pants and as always the first firm press of another hand was enough to cause him to make a gutted sound as his cock got harder.

“I thought you said you didn't get the big deal,” he whispered even as he rocked his hips up.

“With sex? Not yet. With this? Yes,” She said, and then something in Elvhen, something low and longing, all soft syllables. Then she remembered herself. “I just… I can’t sleep. Do you - is this -?”

“Yes.”

Then there was nothing but the hard press of her hand against him, back and forth, and he ground gratefully into her again and again, rolling his hips to the rhythm of what she said, of her teeth worrying his ear, of his own steady pulses as his balls drew up swollen and ready, until the pleasure lanced through him and he went still except for the hard throb of his cock as he came and came and she rubbed and rubbed.

“Was that good?” She murmured when he relaxed.

“Yes,” he said, and kissed her throat. She said something else in Elvhen and moved so he was kissing her lips instead. “And you, deliciae?” He said.

She rolled onto her back, took hold of his hand, and slid it onto her bare stomach - her shirt had rucked up at some point - and then below her waistband and her smalls and she was wet, dripping, perfect under his fingers, and the instant he drew a circle around that one firm place she buried her face against his neck and bit down until he circled harder, faster. She hissed and so he went softer, wider, until she pressed closer, and then he tightened the circles and pressure again, and then she shuddered again and again and he held her close.

“Oh,” she managed when she was still.

“Good?” He asked.

“Yes,” she said. She was curled contentedly against him, like she had no intentions of moving, and her slight weight against his side was welcome at first - but he remembered, guiltily, that they were not alone, and now his own seed was cooling and drying on his skin, and she had to realize that - except, then again, maybe she didn’t.

“Claudia won’t be pleased if she finds us like this,” he murmured.

“I’ll go soon. I promise.”

“I - need to get up. To change.”

She didn’t move at first. Then: _“Oh.”_

And she was up and out of his bed, and then standing awkwardly beside it. “Well - good night.”

“Good night.”

He waited until she’d gotten back into her own bed, quickly changed and cleaned himself, then settled back under the covers, replaying over and over again the sound of her voice in his ears, the textures of words he could not understand, yet which already lingered in his memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I REGRET NOTHING. Have I ever mentioned that I am incapable of slow burn? I don't even know what to do with these two.
> 
> Remember that time I said we’d get to Skyhold this chapter? Remember that time I checked my hard copy map of Thedas and realized that it will take them like two weeks to get to Skyhold?
> 
> Whoops.
> 
> I am now torn between just fastforwarding straight there and potentially having shenanigans of some sort along the way. This is already so much longer than I thought it would be! We will see. Thanks as always for kudos and comments and all of that - I still can’t believe anyone is reading this!
> 
> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/)!


	12. Clear*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did decide we needed a chapter before the arrival at Skyhold, but mostly for character development purposes. With that: have some character development! (And smut! Stop reading at the double asterisk ** to avoid it.)
> 
> The good news is that the arriving-at-Skyhold chapter is done and will be up today or tomorrow as well :)

Ashara woke the next morning and flushed at the thought of the night before. It wasn't what she intended on doing when she went to his bed - although that sounded stupid now. Maybe it wasn't what she thought consciously when she went over, but somewhere she’d hoped…

Well, she’d hoped it might still the nonstop train of thought that had been running through her mind.

_I killed a man._

_I don't know why I can't find my father in the Fade._

_Should I have trusted Lucius about the letter? Been more angry?_

_If this conduit doesn’t work…_

And it did stop the thoughts - at the time.

At that _glorious_ moment.

Now the moment was gone.

She was the first awake, and sitting up she could see Claudia to her right, and then Lucius to her left, both still sleeping peacefully. She wondered what it would have been like to wake up at his side. Would she still be thinking thinking thinking like she was now if he was close beside her? Would it be uncomfortable? He did seem to enjoy sleeping sprawled out…

She got out of bed and dressed herself. There was nothing for it but to get on with her morning. Stretch, work with her staff, and meditate if she still felt like her skin fit too tightly.

_At least we’ll be at Skyhold soon. Eleven more days._

She stood tall on the tips of her toes and breathed in deep and stretched her arms over her head.

_And Mamae and Papae will help me understand…_

She rocked back onto her heels, bent at the waist and reached for her toes.

_But isn't that a childish way of thinking about it?_

She took a deep breath as she settled onto the floor and spread her legs.

_But isn’t it natural to miss them so?_

She stretched towards one pointed toe, rotating her body, reaching and reaching, but she couldn't breathe deeply enough or relax into the pose. She rotated back towards the center of her body and stretched out straight, connected with her mana, searched for the comfort of its beat in her chest, of the connection to the Fade.

_I don't know why I can't find my father in the Fade._

With a frustrated sigh, she sat up. Staff work, then. Even if she wasn't fully stretched out yet.

Except that when she stood, and pulled her arms above her head and rocked side to side, trying one last time to loosen the tension in her spine, she locked eyes with Lucius, sitting up on his bed. Wide awake. He had the grace to look a little chagrined, and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and got out of bed, gesturing to the door. He waited for her there, and when she passed by him, he rested his hand briefly on the small of her back.

Well, at least now her attention was focused solely on that one point on her back.

They walked out of the inn to the courtyard before it. The salt smell of the air filled her nose and mouth, and the foreignness was bothersome instead of exciting. When she turned to face him, Lucius began speaking without preamble.

“You - I find you difficult to read sometimes. That's not right. Not difficult to read. Difficult to understand.”

“Oh? I don't think I’ve been accused of that before.”

“It’s not an accusation. Kaffas, I’m bad at this. I woke up and - I was watching you and I could tell you were upset but I couldn't tell why. You were so quiet on the journey here and then last night…”

Well, now she was focused on the heat on her face.

“I just want to make sure you’re not upset. At me. At yourself. At - us?”

She laughed, but it was an affectionate sound.

“You could have started there. I like it when you’re straightforward.”

“Straightforward is not something I’m used to. Not in Tevinter. Not with - women.”

“Oh? Have there been many women for you, then?”

“It’s rude to ask, you know. But - no. A handful.”

“I’m not upset about last night.” She almost bit back the next words, but they rushed out anyway. “Except maybe that it was all we got to do.”

He laughed, though the sound didn't come of his throat. “Why the impatience?”

_Because I’m crawling out of my skin with how new and real and frightening everything is and I want all of it and none of it at the same time and I like it when you smile -_

“I’ve never really been - hesitant about it. I fooled around with other elves before - played kissing games and the like - I think I’ve been ready for a while now. It's just - once Mamae got sick it was all I had room to think about. All I had time for. Now that the problem is solved…”

 _Except it might not be_.

Lucius didn't look quite as happy as before.

“And I like you. I do. This isn't just… convenience. Fenedhis. I wish you spoke Elvhen. Trade is so… blunt and unsubtle.”

He smiled shyly.

“I liked it when you spoke Elvhen. Last night.”

The salt air didn't taste so foreign or so frightening now. Her spine was straightening, her muscles relaxing.

“Good.”

“Yes.” There was a pause when Ashara could feel the tension returning, so she spoke again.

“Well - I was going to do some staff work. Would you care to join?”

“We have some time. I’ll go and get our staves.”

He returned not only with the staves but with Claudia, and instantly Ashara felt guilty. She wanted to tell Claudia what happened, to ask for advice - but that involved admitting that it happened  while she slept innocently ten feet away. So instead they kept one eye on the harbor as they practiced, critiqued stances, debated the origins of various techniques. Ashara discovered that they didn't know a game she and the other mage children played frequently in Enasan, where they carefully passed a growing flame of Veilfire until it became too big for one of them to control. It was what they were doing when they realized it was time to leave and they were all still smiling as they rushed on board, and Ashara’s mind was clear as the horizon.

*

It didn't stay that way, of course. Not when she still couldn't find her father, when even in the Fade her mother was in pain (“I don't _know_ , Ashara - I don't know why you can't see each other, why he can't even find me when you’re with me - but I need to rest now. Ir abelas, da’vhenan.”). Not when she let herself dream freely one night and heard the Templar screaming.

But Claudia was good for a quick, frenetic spar in the morning or evening once they were off of the ship. Lucius didn't really see the point; he was still learning to enjoy magic for its own sake. (But he stayed up late with her one night when they camped, followed her deeper into the woods, kissed her until she was tearing at his clothes, pulled away only to say “Don't you at least want a bed?”).

But as good as either of them was at distraction, they couldn't fill up those lonely twilight hours.

So as they traveled through Orlais, too quickly to see much of any one town or place, sleeping equally in cheap inns and under the stars, Ashara tried to convince the two of them to stay up later and later.

Once she asked for childhood stories and learned about every kind of bread Claudia’s family made, and how Lucius’s brother used to rearrange the type in their parents’ printshop on a lark.

Once she asked what they thought about the Maker, and heard how Claudia still prayed to Andraste for mercy every night, how Lucius couldn't imagine a world where a Maker let his brother die.

Claudia caught on to the pattern. One night, when they were all bedded down in a copse of trees, the weather warm enough that they didn’t use either of the tents they brought, she began the conversation.

“What do you want to do with your life? Either of you?”

There was a long silence until Ashara spoke up.

“I honestly don't know what I’ll do when this is all over. I’ve never thought that far. What about you, Lucius?”

He sighed. “Until I came into my magic - until my family died - I always thought I would just run the printshop like my mother and father. Marry a nice girl. Try and improve the family fortunes. Then - well. Then that didn’t happen. Then I just wanted to live the life of the mages I knew in the Circle. Rich. Powerful. Not a care in the world, as far as I could tell.”

“You know that isn’t true,” Claudia said, reproachful.

“Well, I do now. When I was younger it was easy to idealize. My only goal was to be good enough to catch the attention of a magister, to become an Enchanter, and then to do whatever they asked me to, so I could live the life I always wanted.”

“And now that you’ve got the first part?” Claudia asked. She knew about Corix now, of course. She knew better even than Ashara what he was risking. There would be no decent life for him in Tevinter if Corix realized he was lying, unless he turned it to his advantage and sought out a different magister who had some kind of vendetta against him. And if he’d struggled to catch anyone’s attention before...

“I don’t know anymore, honestly. I suppose I never stopped to think about what I actually wanted. You, Claudia?”

“I want to continue Dorian’s work. Have a seat in the Magisterium. Keep pushing Tevinter to change. We have a long way to go.”

“Yes,” Lucius replied. “That is a noble cause. I can’t imagine my life anywhere but Tevinter, for all its flaws. I’d like to see them change.”

Ashara felt her stomach twist at the thought. Of course both of them would go back to Tevinter when all of this was over - and if all went well at Skyhold, it would be over very soon. They were waiting for her to respond, she realized, so she spoke.

“Maybe it's the Dalish in me, but I’ve never seen my life playing out in just one place. Not yet, at least. I want to keep seeing the world. I want to keep learning. I want to keep meeting people and helping them. I want to learn more magic, see more of the Fade…”

“Well, you can do that, can’t you?” Claudia said, teasingly. “You’re Ashara Lavellan. Your name alone opens doors. Your parents will help support you, whatever you do, I’m sure. We can’t all have our heads in the clouds.”

“I know,” Ashara replied. “Although my name also slams some doors shut, you know.”

“True.”

It was an ideal, one she’d long held.

But she was here, doing all of that now, wasn't she? Exploring, learning, helping.

So why didn’t it feel the way she’d imagined it?

So why couldn't she make the thoughts stop racing through her head?

_I killed a man._

_I don't know why I can't find my father in the Fade._

_Am I wrong to trust Lucius?_

_If this conduit doesn’t work…_

_*_

Once they reached the foothills of the Frostbacks, it got cold enough that they began to use the two tents they’d brought with them. It stifled Ashara a little. No more open sky to distract herself with as she tried to sleep. It had its benefits, too, though. Like privacy.

“Would you please stop sneaking back and forth?” Claudia sighed one night when she crept back in. “You’re making me cold.”

“I don’t know if he wants me to stay,” she admitted. “He’s never asked.”

“You two…”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. Go to sleep.”

She wished she could.

Or, rather, she wished that when she did, she didn’t find the Fade vibrating with her own worries.

She couldn't find her mother in the Fade now. It was beginning to feel disturbingly empty. She couldn't even feel Friend, hadn’t for days and days. Was she losing her abilities as a Dreamer? Was that possible? The emptiness cloyed her. She told jokes during the day, practiced barriers and glyphs in the morning and evening, slipped into Lucius’s tent and enjoyed the comfort he was willing to offer (so many rules, though - so insistent on waiting for more) - and at night, the thoughts plagued her.

_I killed a man._

_I don't know why I can't find my father in the Fade._

_If this conduit doesn’t work…_

It went on like that until they were only a day away from Skyhold, until they had to reluctantly conceded that it wasn’t worth pushing on any further that night. And that night,  finally, desperately, she cried out for the spirit who called himself Friend.

He appeared this time not in a field, but in Skyhold itself, as her father had shown it to her in the past: an Elvhen fortress. Tarasyl’an Te’las.

“It has been some time,” he said, smoothly.

“Why can't I find them?” she asked. “Why can't I sense my mother or my father? Why couldn't I sense you until you appeared? What have you done?”

“Why would you assume that it was me?” He sounded hurt, more than anything else.

“You - you’re the only thing that's changed.”

“Is that true?”

Ashara was cold. Skyhold seemed smaller now, dimmer. No longer a grand fortress. An abandoned ruin.

_I killed a man._

_If the conduit doesn't work…_

“I changed,” she admitted. “But nothing else about the Fade has changed for me. I can still find Claudia and Lucius and my own memories and the memories of others…”

He nodded thoughtfully. He had raven-black hair this time, and pale gray eyes. Like her mother’s.

“Could it be that your parents are blocking you, then?”

“What?”

“One of them is a Dreamer too, yes? How else would you have the gift?”

“That - why would my father block me from sensing him? From sensing my mother?”

“For many reasons. Perhaps something has happened that they wish to keep secret. Perhaps your father delves far into the Fade, and does not wish you to follow. It _is_ your father who is a Dreamer, yes?”

The Fade grew colder and colder.

“He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't hide anything from me. Mamae said he was trying to find me the last time we saw each other.”

“You certainly know him better than I do, child. If you believe he is the sort of person who would not lie - who would not ask your mother to lie - then perhaps you are right.” He paused again, and turned in a slow circle. They were in the rotunda now, she realized, as it was now - covered in her father’s murals. “There is one other thing it could be.”

“Oh?”

“The Fade is a place shaped by emotion, as you know well. Is it possible that with all you have been feeling and experiencing, you are placing blocks on yourself?”

Ashara hesitated.

“I know you do not trust me child. You do not have to tell me all that troubles you. But if this is the case - if you have been experiencing such troubles - perhaps I can help. You need only clear your mind…”

She relaxed and could feel it at once - the tension in her mind and spirit. She was frightened, uncertain, her mind a maze of knots - and they were easing - but some of this tension was necessary, necessary to stay lucid, to guard against possession - she couldn't lose sight of which was which -

“Relax, child. It is the only way -”

She was fully relaxed - because _she_ did not exist. She was something formless, weightless, eyeless, tongueless, nameless - until -

“There you are, child. Don’t you feel better now?”

Better.

Yes, better.

“All will be well. You may not hear from me for some time, but you are well now.”

If she was well, then why was someone shouting her name?

“Just remember - magic is in the blood. You’ll need that -”

The voice shouting - she knew that voice -

“Papae?”

The forest. She was back in the forest. And her father was there.

“What happened? How did you manage to break through whatever was separating us? Are you injured?” He asked, urgently.

As always, he filled the Fade to the brim with his presence, his power, until she could hardly tell it wasn't the waking world. It was disorienting after being so free - but so relieving to see him again.

“My friend - the spirit - he said it was my emotions holding me back. He asked me to clear my mind, and I did. I must be fixed now.”

Then why did freedom feel empty inside?

“Clear your - Ashara, look at me.”

He took hold of her face with both hands, as he hadn't since she was a child, and instantly it angered her. She’d been on her own these last seven months - she’d lived in a place so different from home it made her chest ache, found a solution to her mother’s illness, protected her friends -

“Everything is fine. We’ll reach Skyhold tomorrow. There’s no need to worry about me. I can handle myself.”

She knew from the flash in his eyes that it was the wrong thing to say.

“You can handle your - do you know what could have just happened? You could have been possessed. You might be possessed right now. You need to stay here and let me examine you -”

The truth was that she might have. It was good to see him and hear him, and there was no small part of her that wanted to be a child who let him care for her and figure out what had happened. But she felt a powerful need to wake up then - someone else was calling her name.

“Tomorrow,” she managed as the dream faded. “Tomorrow we’ll see.”

Then she was awake, gasping, and it was Claudia shaking her shoulder.

“You’re fine. You’re here. I’ve got you. What happened? Was it a nightmare?”

“I don't know what it was.”

“You’re shaking, Ash.”

She sat up slowly.

“You would - we would both know if I was possessed. Right?”

Claudia’s eyes went wide. Ashara felt the other mage’s mana probing her own and allowed the intrusion. It felt calming, actually. Familiar. Like an embrace.

“You don’t seem any different. Do you feel different?”

“No. Yes. I just feel - better. Calmer. It’s strange. I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back.”

Lucius was on watch when she exited the tent. Both of his eyebrows went up in concern when he saw her.

“Okay?” He asked.

“I’ll be back,” she replied.

She followed the rise of the land in the direction they would go the next day - towards Skyhold. She breathed in the cold mountain air, the pine trees, the earth. She felt each muscle as it moved, the magic deep within herself. She touched the trees just to feel the texture of their bark. She was herself again. Ashara Lavellan. More centered than she had been in days. She’d made mistakes in the last few months. That was true. But she was almost home now. Almost at the end of this road. All she could do was keep pressing forward.

**

Lucius was sleeping when she returned, Claudia having taken over to watch, or so she thought. When she curled up close to him on her bedroll, he rolled over to face her.

“Everything fine?” He asked. She nodded.

“Would you help me fall back asleep?”

He smiled. “I think you’re developing a habit, formosa. Coming to my tent whenever you can’t sleep.”

“What does that mean? Formosa?”

“Beautiful,” he said, as he pressed his lips to hers.

And, yes, it was becoming habit - tossing a leg over his hips to bring him flush against her, grinding against his hardness until they both bit back moans, until she rolled onto her back and he pressed his fingers against her pearl and even through her clothes it would make her gasp. She’d pull her pants and smalls down far enough for him to cup her where she was slick and aching and then he’d touch her, always carefully at first, then faster, rougher, sometimes too rough (he was still finding that balance she knew instinctively) until she came, biting her lip. Then she’d reach down for him, so shockingly hot and hard and smooth, she’d never touched someone like that before, with no clothes in the way, and she would stroke in time with his bitten-off groans until his cock went rigid and his eyes slid shut and he came, too, scrambling for a cloth to cover himself so nothing would get on her.

She didn't want the habit tonight.

She pulled him on top of her, wrapped her legs around his waist, and ground hard against him, hard enough that he swore and bit her lip.

“Lucius,” she said when he pulled back. “I want to - could we -”

“Ashara,” he said quietly. His voice was rougher, accent thicker, in moments like this. “I’ve told you before - when we do this - when I lay with you - it won't be in the middle of the night in a cold tent. I will be able to see every inch of you, hear every sound you make. I want you to take your time. You deserve that.”

He punctuated his sentences with rolls of his hips that made her whimper.

“But I want more tonight. I need more.”

He stilled, considering.

“I can do that.”

He helped her pull down her leggings and smalls like usual, but this time he pushed them all the way to her ankles, and told her to spread her legs. Her heart hammered in her chest when he ran his fingers through the sparse, fine curls on her mound, and then lower, to her slit. Before, he would only rub here, gathering just enough slick to coat his fingertips. This time he traced each lip, and Ashara forgot to breathe when one finger pressed gently against her.

“Can I?” He asked.

“Yes.” No hesitation - she knew who she was and she knew what and who she wanted and all of those things in that moment were clear as glass.

He slid his finger slowly inside her and it was thicker than her own, and it stretched her just enough that she felt it.

“Venhedis,” he swore, his own voice broken. “You’re so tight. Is this good?”

She nodded hastily. “Move.”

He did, one long, slow drag of his finger all the way out to tease her soft inner lips and then all the way in again. It was different than when he played with her bud, the pleasure less bright and immediate - more a slow build. She didn't know exactly what she wanted from him - she’d never been able to make herself come this way - only that she didn't want him to stop.

And he didn't. He slowly fingered her harder, crooking his finger every now and then against something that made her gasp, until she was writhing with need, rocking her hips to meet him. There was pleasure but it wasn't cresting and she wanted it to - a frustrated sound escaped her.

“More?” He asked. She managed a nod. His finger withdrew, and this time she felt two press against her. “Ready?”

It hurt, at first. It stretched her and she tensed.

“Deliciae, take a breath. Relax. Now move like before, with your hips - _there_.”

She couldn't bite back the whimper when both fingers slid home. So full, so wet, so - close? Perhaps? She needed him to move and he did, short, hard thrusts of his hand, and then slow circular motions that burned as they opened her and yet hit every nerve. And then he was rubbing something inside of her, back and forth, back and forth…

“Good?” He asked. “What else?”

She didn't have words anymore. Just the wet heat between her legs, so wet she could hear him moving, and then she looked down to see him moving, to see where his fingers disappeared inside her, and just the sight made her cunt clench unexpectedly, and it felt so much better when there was something to clench around...

He said something urgent in Tevene and moved more quickly and she didn't know what she needed except that he couldn't stop, not now, so she pressed her hand on top of his. His palm covered her mound and she realized with a gasp that it rubbed her sweet place just _so_ now. She rocked back and forth, desperate, and he matched her, and something was building building building that she couldn't stop, and then it happened - she came and it felt like it would never end, not as long as he kept moving his hand, but how could he when she was tightening around his fingers with every gasp, but he had to because this had to go on forever, this loose-limbed freefall, this warm scent of desire, this tense and release, tense and release.

It did end, of course. Lucius withdrew his hand but rubbed the pad of one wet, hot finger back and forth over her pearl for a moment, almost affectionately, until she frowned at the sensitivity.

“Better?” He asked. She made an assenting sound and he chuckled. “Sleep, then.”

That shook some of the weariness from her.

“No - you.”

“If you want to.”

He slid out of his trousers and smalls, and when he rejoined her his cock rested heavy against her hip. He pressed forward, tensing and then sighing, then shifted so he was lying above her. Her breath caught as she felt him settled between her legs. Maybe he would, after all -

“Can I just - I won't enter you. Not tonight. But you’re so -”

_“Yes.”_

He kissed her, and she could feel the rumble of his satisfaction as he rubbed himself against her sex, over and over. His rhythm faltered; he braced himself on one arm and then reached down with the other, but she saw what he meant to do.

“Let me,” she said, taking hold of him. Gods, he was wet where he’d pressed against her, and weeping from the tip, and she could spread it all over the impossibly soft head of his cock and he made sounds in his throat that made her swell again.

“Ash, _please_.”

He hadn’t said that before on the nights they’d shared - never used her name in any form she realized. It was easy to give him what he needed. Long, firm strokes - not too fast and light, she’d learned, or it would chafe him - then slowly faster. It was easier with their combined slick on her hand, and it wasn’t long until his whole body got rigid and he met her eyes.

“I’m close,” he whispered, and just the acknowledgement of it made her stomach flutter in anticipation.

“Then come for me,” she said, in Elvhen, and he choked back a sound as he spilled himself on her bare stomach in long spurts. She’d never felt his spend before - well, never felt anyone’s - it was so warm, and there was so _much_. It thrilled her in a way she didn’t expect to feel such evidence of his desire. As he relaxed, she released him, and ran her finger through a puddle curiously.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have warned you sooner, so you could - move, or get a cloth or - something.”

“It’s fine. I… liked it.”

He didn’t react to that at first, but then he slowly leaned in and kissed her on the lips. Not a hungry kiss - just a gentle one.

“I have to admit,” she said when he pulled away. “I don’t see how it would have been so different if you would have just finished inside me.”

“You’ll see in time, I think. I hope. I’ll clean you up - then sleep. The sooner you sleep, the sooner we reach Skyhold.”

“You don’t mind if I stay?”

“Not at all, formosa.”

Skyhold - and Mamae and Papae - and the end of this long road. She didn’t buzz with anxiety at the thought anymore. Her mind _was_ clearer now. It was easy to slip into a dark and dreamless sleep at his side, safe in the knowledge that everything would turn out right in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important note: I want to stress that, given Ashara's troubling interaction with the spirit, there is no dubcon at the end there. Just Ashara making her own decisions, for better or worse.
> 
> Actual conversation happening in Skyhold right now:
> 
> Solas: I AM GOING TO YELL AT HER SO MUCH  
> Ellana: Please don’t yell. Please have a rational conversation with her.  
> Solas: SO MUCH YELLING  
> Ellana: This is going to end well.
> 
> Up next… Skyhold. And yelling. Also, fun fact: one translation of the Latin word formosa is actually shapely/curvaceous but I laughed too hard trying to figure out a way to make Lucius say that that didn’t seem too… goofy.
> 
> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/).


	13. Skyhold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys…. It’s Papa!Solas and Mom!Lavellan time. I am so excited. I couldn't even wait until tomorrow morning to post.

Skyhold always seemed like something out of a myth to Lucius. An ancient fortress high in the mountains with a long and mysterious past.

It was, however, breathtakingly real.

Ashara had been jittery all day, but that slipped out of his mind as they approached the fortress and the awe overcame him. It flew the pennants of the Orlesian Chantry now, though as they crossed the drawbridge he saw an old Inquisition standard, preserved for posterity. It was mostly a holy site now, a place where pilgrims paid homage to the Inquisition and all that it had done, and a waypoint for travelers passing between Ferelden and Orlais. And, of course, it was now home to the Inquisitor and the Dread Wolf once more. Ellana and Solas.

Lucius still couldn’t believe he would actually meet them. Dine with them. Likely spend a good deal of time with them, unless they only wanted Ashara and Claudia to help with the efforts to cure Ellana. Seeing them in Ashara’s memories had helped make them seem more real, but he still found himself nervous as they passed through the main gate.

At the other end of the courtyard was a large staircase leading up to the keep itself. Halfway down there was a landing, where a male elf was standing, hands clasped behind his back. It was too far to make out much about him, except that he had no hair and was dressed unassumingly in a long grey tunic and brown leggings.

Wait - was that...?

“Fenedhis,” Ashara said quietly.

“What?” He asked.

“My father. I thought he'd at least wait for me to get inside before killing me.”

“Killing you?”

“He wasn’t happy with me last night. About the spirit and clearing my mind. He didn’t even try to find me in the Fade when I fell back asleep.”

Privately, Lucius agreed with him. He’d been stunned when Ashara told him that morning. It was a foolish thing to do.

Still - that was her father. That man, standing not three hundred feet away from him, was the Dread Wolf. Lucius felt his skin prickle.

All things considered, he didn't seem that dreadful. As Lucius had seen in the memories, he was taller than most elves, broader, and had a distinct pride in his posture. It was a soldier’s posture, or a courtier’s, more than a mage’s. He surveyed them calmly as they approached, not moving or changing his expression at all. In that sense alone it was hard to imagine him as Ashara’s father. Once they were really up close he seemed - ordinary. There was nothing to give away that he was an ancient rebel, a feared general, a mage so powerful it was said he could sunder the heavens. The figure in the night he and Erast used to frighten each other with.

What on earth was Lucius supposed to say to him?

Thankfully, Solas spoke first.

“Welcome to Skyhold,” he said, inclining his head to them.

“It is good to be back,” Claudia said. “May I introduce Lucius Talvas of Vyrantium?”

Now the blue eyes were fixed on him. Appraising. Another nod of his head.

“Well met, Lucius. I am Solas.”

What was the elven custom for greeting? Did he bow? He should have asked Ashara. Lucius gave a quick nod in return.

“Well met.”

Ashara was behind the two of them, he realized. Was she actually hiding?

“Andaran atish’an,” he said. They were lilting words, but not much warmer than the way he’d greeted the two of them.

“Savhalla, Papae.”

“You must be tired from your journey. This way. Ellana is waiting inside.” He stepped aside and gestured to let them pass, and Lucius followed Claudia’s lead. They got two or three steps ahead when she leaned in whispered in Tevene.

“It gets less strange. He’s - nicer than you would expect.”

He nodded and glanced back to see that Ashara was behind them, her gaze carefully pointed at her feet. Solas was a step behind her as they ascended the rest of the way to the keep.

Lucius knew he would recognize Ellana Lavellan from the memories he’d seen in the Fade, and from the portrait he’d seen once in Minrathous - dark skin and pale eyes, red hair. When they entered the keep itself and he saw the figure waiting there, it both was and was not the woman he had seen. The dark skin and pale eyes were the same, but her red hair was no longer shaved close. It was grown out - not quite as long as Ashara’s, but it surrounded her angular face now. It was graying at the temples. There were no longer branching black tattoos on her face - he knew it couldn’t be polite to ask why, though he wondered all the same. And, of course, the left arm that was raised so proudly in the portrait he’d seen once was now half-gone, hanging at her side.

“Welcome to Skyhold,” she said, offering her hand.

He couldn’t deny the sudden anxiety that flooded him. This was her - the Inquisitor, the one who’d rewritten history and shaped nations. But when she shook his hand she smiled, and there was something about the shape of the smile, the set of her eyes, that was instantly Ashara. The woman he’d come to know and care for. Void - he’d never met the parents of any woman he’d been intimate with. That was a new layer of anxiety to consider. Did they know? Of course not.

“I am Lucius Talvas of Vyrantium. It is my pleasure to meet you.” Kaffas. What did he call her? She hadn’t been Inquisitor since he was a babe in his mother’s arms, and she was no longer an ambassador for her own country -

“Ellana Lavellan, although Ellana is just fine. Claudia, it has been too long!” She embraced Claudia briefly but warmly. Then her eyes met Ashara’s where she hung back.

“Da’vhenan,” she said, and held out her hand.

Ashara went to her in a rush, wrapping herself around her mother and nearly lifting her with the force of her hug. She was taller than her mother, though not quite her father’s height. Lucius could still feel the other elf at his side, a palpable presence, tense and watchful. Ashara released her mother then, said something quick and low and worried in Elvhen. He realized, with sudden pain, that he hadn't embraced his own mother in eleven years. What he wouldn't give to have the moment Ashara was having now.

“Later,” Ellana replied. “First, let us welcome our guests. Skyhold is quite large, but I will give you a tour of what you need to know while you stay here. Don't worry if you get lost - it happens all the time.”

As they toured the keep, Ellana regaled them with various stories of the days of the Inquisition, a time when the castle was constantly full of dignitaries and soldiers, when Orlesian nobles ate a table away from Fereldan mercenaries, when she herself was still scarcely used to wearing shoes and reading books and yet had to learn to dance before Empress Celene and the rest of her court. The others were silent for the most part, though Ashara chimed in now and then to add a detail her mother had forgotten (“Don't forget the limerick Varric composed on the spot”). Something about her cheer seemed false. And he couldn’t help but notice how differently she moved now - stiff, like a woman many years older than she was. It was a sad contrast to what he’d seen of her in the Fade: fluid, deadly, and graceful.

Then, halfway through the library in the rotunda, Ellana froze, her remaining hand clutching the railing. Her whole body was tense, her eyes shut tight. Lucius’s heart sped up when he realized what was happening. Ashara started forward, and so did her father, but before either of them could touch her, Ellana raised her hand.

“It’s fine. Let's go up to the rookery - Lucius must see the view.”

Lucius couldn't resist the urge then to tap into his mana and attune his senses to the area around Ellana. He drew in a quick breath when he felt it, searing hot around her. The raw power of the Veil. Not pure or transmutable like mana. Hungry. Eating her alive.

He realized then that Solas had pinned him with his gaze, while the others had moved on. He could likely sense Lucius’s tentative exploration. And even without sharpening his senses any further, Lucius could feel the other source of power in the room, emanating steadily from the elf. He knew if he looked directly at it, he would be blinded. So he let himself focus on the candlelight and books again, and the stories Ellana was weaving as they walked the ancient stone halls.

They ended their tour in the rooms where he and Claudia would stay, and Ellana told them to take a chance to freshen up. A communal dinner would soon be served in the main hall, and she assured them that they would be welcome there.

“We’ll be down soon as well,” she said. “Until then.”

While Ellana’s smile was warm, Ashara looked considerably less pleased. She gave them both a half-hearted smile, then left.

*

Their house had never been a quiet one, as far as Ellana could remember. Not since Ashara was born. First it was her fierce wailing as a babe, then her constant wordless chatter when she was tiny, then her nonstop questions as a small child. Then her shouting from one room or another to ask where she’d left her book, or her quill, or when it would be time for dinner. Or to inform them that she’d set her pillow on fire again.

Of course, there were less pleasant forms of noise, too.

Ellana herself always had a temper. And even if Solas’s ran cooler than her own, once he was angry, there was little to stop him. Ashara, naturally, had a temper of her own, somewhere between the two of theirs. And when three willful people lived under one roof…

As noisy as their home had been, Ellana recognized the silence that enveloped the three of them when they retreated to their quarters following the tour, leaving Claudia and Lucius to settle in. It was the silence that came before an explosion.

Solas and Ashara said nothing to each other as they entered the room. Ashara slinked from place to place as she set down her pack, hung up her staff, found a basin to wash her hands. Solas stared straight ahead, still as stone.

It was not what he’d done when they first got the call from Dorian that she was trapped in the Fade; or when they got word that she would travel to Val Chevin accompanied only by her new friends; or when he could no longer find her in the Fade; or even the night before, when he’d woken Ellana to say that some spirit had helped Ashara lift whatever was blocking them from sensing each other, but that she’d opened herself to the risk of possession in doing so. Each of those times he was agitated, pacing, fists clenched.

And at each of those moments, Ellana saw what was coming. This moment.

This moment when Solas looked Ashara in the eye and said in a low, seething voice:

“What were you thinking?”

Ashara refolded a tunic she’d taken out of her pack. One that was singed, torn, and bloodied.

“What do you mean?” She said.

“You know exactly what I mean. What happened to that tunic?”

“Nothing - the Templars and soldiers from the mine, the ones I wrote to you about, but it turned out fine. And I have thought a lot of things in the last seven months.”

“And clearly none of those thoughts were for your own safety.”

Ellana’s heart was in her throat. She needed to intervene - but they both spoke so quickly.

“I -” Ashara began.

“How could you be so unbelievably foolish?” Solas interrupted. He was getting louder now. “Seeking the help of strangers you can’t possibly trust, chasing after wyverns with no effective plan, following unknown spirits in the Fade without anyone to help you, sneaking into mines, fighting Templars, opening your mind to an unknown spirit -”

“I -”

“This is exactly why I knew you weren't ready to go out on your own.  I tried to believe that you would learn from the first bad decision and make better ones. But all you have proven is that you are irresponsible, impulsive, reckless -”

“Will you not let me speak?”

Ellana tried to interrupt. Neither of them heard. They were both moving towards each other now, voices rising.

“Is there any possible justification for any of this? You might never have come home to us. You could have _died_ , Ashara!"

“I didn't -”

“Didn't what? Didn't consider perhaps what you were putting us through as you rushed from one danger to another? What you were putting your mother through, when she needs all her strength?”

“I have done more to help Mamae then you have in the last seven months! Everything I have done, everything I have risked has been for her!”

No.

They would not start down this road.

“Enough!” Ellana shouted then. They froze at the sound. “You will not make this about me. You will not treat each other this way. Both of you just - go somewhere else. _Now._ ”

That was all it took for Ashara.

“Gladly.”

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the stone chamber. When the last echo died, Solas started to speak.

“I -”

“You too. Out. Go to the rotunda, go for a walk - just go. Calm yourself. There was a way to have this conversation with her, and you knew that wasn't it when you walked into this room.”

Solas did not quite slam the door on his way out, but the sound of him closing it did echo. Only when the sound died did Ellana let herself sit down and cover her eyes with her hand and feel the weight of what was really happening.

She was dying.

She was dying, and it terrified the two of them.

She was dying, and someday she would not be here when their voices raised like that. To mediate. To soothe. She would not see Ashara continue growing from where she was now - impulsive, yes, but so smart and so kind and so determined, too…

She dropped her head to the table. Just for a minute. She knew how to deal with pressure. Let it in for too long and it crushed you. Hadn’t she spent so many nights in that very room, letting the pressure in an instant at a time? One flash of the snow in Sahrnia bathed by red lyrium. One screaming soldier in the Arbor Wilds. One prisoner sitting before her throne.

So for a moment she let the thought bounce around her head. _I am dying and I am leaving them behind._

Then she took a deep breath, raised her head, and stood to go and find the two halves of her heart.

*

Ellana was grateful that Ashara hadn’t gone far. This was more walking than she’d done in a while - Skyhold was in many ways an impractical place for her now. Her daughter had made it to the courtyard, where she was now lifting stray rocks and blasting them against the walls with her magic. Once she saw her mother waiting on the stairs, she stopped, and climbed them herself.

“Yes?” She said. Her demeanor was somewhere between sullen and embarrassed, but Ellana knew what lay underneath all of that, knew it as surely as she remembered her newborn smell, the strength of her tiny fingers.

“Come here. Help me down the stairs.”

Ashara softened at once, putting her arm around her mother’s shoulders. Ellana didn’t really need the help going down - going up would be a different matter, especially since she’d unwisely insisted they climb all the way up to the rookery earlier in an effort to delay the inevitable confrontation - but she knew the contact and the sense of being needed would soften her daughter’s frustration. That’s what it was, at the end of the day. Frustration, fear, and embarrassment. Everything else was a veneer. Once they were back in the courtyard itself, skirting the area that used to be an infirmary, Ellana spoke again.

“Do you remember when you were seven, and we went to Ferelden?”

“We stayed with Cullen and all the former templars,” she replied.

“Yes. And one day, when I was meeting with the arl, Cullen took you and your father on a hike through the nearby hills.”

“And I wandered away from them when they stopped to look at an old shrine.” The guilt was back in her voice.

“Yes. And when they found you, an hour later, calmly drawing designs in the mud by a stream, what did your father do?”

“He shook me by the shoulders and yelled at me.”

“But he was crying, too, wasn’t he? Cullen had no idea what to do. He was still mystified when he told me that evening. You didn’t understand either. You hid from him for the rest of the day, and when I came home you asked if he still loved you, or if he was going to be angry at you forever. I had to remind you that above all, he was afraid - not angry. He was so, so afraid that he’d lost you. That’s exactly what happened today, da’vhenan.”

Ashara’s eyes were fixed on the ground. “I know that. But I’m grown now. Surely…”

“It doesn’t matter how old you are. And Ashara - look me in the eye and tell me that he isn’t right about the decisions you’ve made in the last seven months. True, you are here and you are alive and whole, and it seems like you may have found a way to help me. But you need to acknowledge that you are _lucky_ that nothing happened to you. You did frighten us. _Both_ of us. Repeatedly.”

She looked up at last. “Ir abelas, Mamae.”

Ellana stopped walking and drew her into an embrace, and knew that relief flooded both of them at the touch. She’d missed her daughter every day, of course. But now she felt the force of that absence and the force of her presence at once, and the only way she could express it was to hold her tighter.

“I know. Learn from these mistakes. And apologize to your father as well.”

“Should I go now?”

“No. Let me speak to him first. He’ll come to you in the morning. In the meantime, you should finish showing Claudia and Lucius around, if they’re ready.” Ellana smiled then. “Speaking of which - I am happy to meet this Lucius at last.”

“Oh?” Ashara was trying for a neutral tone, but she was still blushing.  
  
“He seems kind so far. I hope that continues to be true.”

“It will. He is, I mean. Kind.”

“Good.”

Together they walked back into the keep, and Ellana went to find Solas.

*  
"You cannot deny that she has acted rashly," Solas said at once when she reached the rotunda.  
  
"I can't. And yet I also acted rashly well past her age. Did that mean I was a child who couldn't be trusted to look after themselves?"  
  
She knew how he wanted to say yes. There were a few occasions during the war against Corypheus when he'd nearly said as much to her. He looked away instead.

“Upstairs, ma’len,” she said. “We’ll speak there. I think I need to retire for the night.”

He was silent on their way to their quarters, but once the door closed behind them, he began again.  
  
"She needs to be careful. She could live with the consequences of anything she does for centuries."

Ellana sighed and began undressing herself.  
  
"True, but that isn't why you are upset with her, vhenan. Try again."

Solas was silent again while she washed her face.

“She is our only child,” he said.

“And so she needs to be kept under lock and key forever? Hardly fair.”  
  
Silence once more. She remembered how often they'd shared similar silences in this room - his mind racing and his lips sealed shut, her own heart aching to know why he didn't simply speak. Her heart didn't ache now. He'd speak in time. She knew he would.

“Where is the - the - you know -” She stuttered, frustrated. The pain was growing more intense now. She’d exerted herself too much.

“Your robe and nightclothes are on the chair over there, emma lath. I’ll send for someone to bring you food.”

She thought about telling him not to - she didn’t think she could eat - but knew it would upset him. By the time he returned, she was settled on the bed, and he sighed and sat beside her.  
  
"I still remember when she would not even sleep in her own room," he said simply. Softly. She took his hand.  
  
"I know. I dream sometimes that I'm still carrying her in my belly. But those days are long gone now. Is that all?”

He stared off at some point she could not see beyond their balcony.

“She is so much like I was. Intelligent. Reckless. Sure of herself. But - she has a softness I never had. The world will twist that. Use it. Destroy it. I fear so much for her.”

“You’re right. It worries me too.” Ellana ran her thumb in soothing circles on the back of his hand. “I also know that both of you are under a good deal of stress. Neither of you reacts well to things you can't control." At that, he lifted her hand and kissed the palm. A silent acknowledgement. "But you can't drive her away now, emma lath. That's what will happen if you treat her like a child. You have years and years and years together - maybe forever. Don't put that in danger. Talk to her in the morning. You don't have to agree with everything she did. But mend this now.”  
  
"Of course.”  
  
She leaned back and closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath. Without another word, Solas knew what she needed, and slid a hand behind her to begin soothing the burning pain.

“You’ll need a potion to sleep, won’t you?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“Eat first.”

She picked at the food he brought up, managing a roll and a small piece of ram. He sighed when she pushed it away. It wasn’t a good sign, this nausea and lack of appetite. They both knew it.  
  
"Not even the broth?" He asked. She shook her head.  "It could work. Her plan."  
  
Hope colored the words, small and scared but there. She reached for his hand and rested it over her heart.  
  
"I hope so," she said. "I want to see what she makes of herself out there in the world."  
  
"Is that all?" His voice had quiet humor in it.  
  
"Yes. Nothing else in life interests me. I take that back - I am also interested to see whether or not you find Lucius in her bed tomorrow morning."  
  
That got a noise of shock out of him that made her smile and curl her toes.

“What? She wouldn’t - I don’t think she would be interested in him.”

“Oh? She blushed when I mentioned him earlier.”

Solas was very, very still.  
  
"It would be no business of ours if he was with her,” he said, doing his best to sound disdainful, as he cleared her food and walked away.  
  
"True. But now you will lie awake worrying about it.”  
  
He sighed. "Must you do this on purpose?"  
  
"Of course. I live to be a nuisance to you. You should know that by now."  
  
He sighed again, but when he bent down to kiss her, his lips were curved in a smile.  
*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Solas and Ashara have their heart-to-heart, and everyone gets the chance to try out their cure on Ellana!
> 
> This is roughly the point in the story where an AU posted under ["What Did I Miss?"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9921326/chapters/22231169) begins. That fic also has several other AUs and missing scenes from the series. This particular story follows my AU of “Body of Knowledge” in which Solas and Ellana have a second daughter named Saeris and will show how the rest of the story plays out differently in that timeline, for anyone who is curious.
> 
> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/).


	14. Trial by Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One looong chapter for you guys today. Hope you enjoy!

Ellana was right - Solas never anticipated how difficult it would be to stop seeing Ashara as a child.

When she was small, he often imagined what it would be like when she was older - which seeds he saw in her would flourish and which would wither. Sometimes (when she was so tired she couldn’t sleep and screamed instead, when she refused for days to eat anything that was green) he even wished she would get older. But now he found that when he looked at her he could only see the little curly-haired child who used to beg for bedtime stories, who got into his paints and drew on his murals, who would sidle up to him and take his hand for no reason at all.

“How can you accept it so easily? That she has grown?” He’d asked Ellana once, when Ashara was sixteen, and they first let her stay out late at night with her friends - friends both male and female.

“It’s not always easy. I don’t know - maybe it comes from training the young hunters back in my clan. One day they were clinging to my knees when I came home from a hunt, and the next they were stringing a bow and I was teaching them to step quietly through the leaves. I was so afraid for the first ones I sent out on their own, but it got easier as time went on. Then again, maybe I just don’t overthink things like you.”

“I have it on good authority that that isn’t true,” he insisted. “I recall being accused of making you overthink things constantly.”

“Maybe I just wasted all my overthinking on you, then,” she scoffed.

He was quite certain he did not overthink anything. Things had to be turned over, reexamined, molded, shifted, turned inside out, to be properly understood. That was why he hesitated so long outside Ashara’s room that morning. Perhaps it was better to wait until she came to him. Perhaps he should have simply sought her in the Fade now that their connection was restored, to avoid the uncomfortable possibility that he would wake her and discover that there was, in fact, someone in her bed. A human, no less. A human from Tevinter, who almost certainly could not be trusted, who could never be a fitting partner for someone like her -

There was some truth to what Ellana said.

He knocked on the door, and waited.

Some things did not change - Ashara was always an early riser from the time she was born, and when she came to the door, she had clearly been awake for some time.

“Good morning,” she said quietly in Elvhen.

“Good morning,” he replied. “I thought perhaps we might train a while - if that is agreeable to you.”

She nodded, went back to the room for her staff, and then returned, still quiet. He felt a little prick of shame at that. He hadn't seen her in person in seven months - the longest he’d gone without seeing her in her entire life - and yet the first thing he did was vent all his frustration and fear at her. He hadn't even embraced her, as Ellana had.

They walked in silence down to the courtyard, to the area where there used to be training dummies that Ellana used to vent her own frustration, where he had not-so-secretly watched her at her beautiful, dangerous work. Where he had longed for her, and never once dared to dream that this future might exist: one where it was their daughter at his side.

“How has your progress with glyphs gone?” he asked.

“Well. I’m still too slow to use the new pattern in combat, but I think even my old pattern has improved.”

“That is precisely the point. Keep working on the new one. It will benefit you in ways you may not even realize.”

She twirled her staff idly, a habit she’d had since childhood, before beginning to align her mana with it. Her eyes were still on the ground.

“I got a chance to truly use Stonefist for the first time. On the wyverns in Tevinter. It was - electrifying. To get to use it with such purpose.”

“Naturally. So much of your experience of combat magic has been theoretical. The practical is always exhilarating by comparison - however much I might wish you had none.”

She finally looked up at that.

“I - am so sorry, Papae. I really didn't think I caused you such pain. I knew what I was doing. Or - thought I did. And I shouldn't have spoken to you like that yesterday. Or said what I did about Mamae.”

He took in the sight of her - as impossible as the day she was born. Then she was so small, so new, so fragile he couldn't believe she was real. Now he couldn't believe that she stood before him, her own whole person. Still learning, yes. Still his child. But not _a_ child any longer.

“I still cannot say that I agree with all the decisions that you have made on your own. But there were better ways of expressing it than what I chose yesterday. I am sorry to have been so harsh.”

“I understand.”

“I don't think you do…” He sighed, searching for the words. Her eyes were narrowed - she hated being told she didn't understand something - but she was waiting. “My life has been shaped by three women. Mythal, your mother - and you. I lost Mythal. I - we - may well lose your mother. To think that I could lose you… I only say you don't understand because I don't think _I_ understand what that pain would be like. So I can't promise I will never worry about you again. I can't promise that my fear for your safety won't cause me to react in ways that neither of us enjoys. I can only ask that you forgive me when I do.”

Solas watched the interplay of emotions on her face as he spoke, both grateful and worried that she still had no mask for them. This was what the world would take and use and corrupt if it could; it was what told him that she understood. She started to speak again, then instead dropped her staff and embraced him with the same impulsiveness he’d scorned her for the night before. He returned the embrace, surprised by how long she seemed to be determined to hold on. In the haze of his own pain and fear, he’d never considered that she too had suffered in their time apart - that she wasn't rushing gleefully from danger to danger, but struggling to find her way amongst them.

“So you won't lock me in the keep and refuse to let me leave?” she said with a smile, when she released him.

“Will you let me?”

“No.”

He hesitated.

“Will you let me examine you now to see what the spirit did?”

She started to huff, but caught herself.

“Yes. I’m fine though. Last night the Fade was just as it always has been for me.”

“I know. I checked on you then, to ensure we could sense each other once more. But for my peace of mind…”

She nodded.

He felt around her aura, tested it - it was no different than before. Still he frowned.

“I told you. Nothing is different. Lucius and Claudia did the same thing.”

“Neither of them knows you like I do. What the spirit described - that it was an emotional blockage - I have never heard of such a thing. I don't think that was the truth.”

“Well, it's better now. I won't go near him again - or let him come near me. I swear.”

Solas sighed. It was probably the best they would get for now. She would stay close for a while, he assumed. He would be able to keep a better eye on her. If the spirit had done something - and he _did_ do something, Solas was sure of it - he would be there to figure it out.

“Let’s see those glyphs,” he said.

Ashara was getting faster, he noted with pride. She didn’t always have the patience for glyphs, but her work was showing now. Of course, there were corrections and suggestions to make, which she took readily. He could almost distance himself from the other worries plaguing him as he watched her ( _I need to go up to Ellana - she should be awake, she might need me - she must eat something more for breakfast than she ate last night - then we need to test this conduit…)_. But then Ashara herself broke the spell.

“Lucius!”

Solas pivoted and saw what she saw - the man who’d come with her all the way from Tevinter. The stranger. The one she blushed to speak of. He hadn’t looked closely at him the day before, too caught up in his own rush to confront Ashara. He certainly didn’t have the swagger Solas associated with Dorian - then again, it was naive to assume all Tevene men were like Dorian. As he approached them, he had a quiet watchfulness about himself, like a horse about to shy. It was a different demeanor than that of the handful of elves his daughter had been infatuated with in Enasan. Perhaps Ellana was wrong after all.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” he said when he reached them. “I didn’t realize you were here. I was exploring.”

“It’s fine,” Ashara said. “You shaved again.”

“You’re going to remain fascinated with that, aren’t you?” Lucius replied with a smile. His facial hair did look neatly trimmed, a mustache and small goatee, though Solas was far from an expert in these things.

 _Remain fascinated with it_?

“It is rather different than what she grew up around,” Solas said.

“True,” Lucius said, with an incline of his head. At least he had manners. He still looked like he was an inch away from bolting. It was uncharitable to wish that he would do so, Solas reminded himself. Even if he was a stranger from a country known for lying and slavery.

“Do you want to practice barriers again?” Ashara asked. “I’m warmed up. I’m convinced you won’t be able to take mine down.”

“Experience says otherwise,” Lucius replied.

“You have always said I need more practice,” Ashara said, turning her gaze back to her father. She hadn’t looked away from Lucius at all once he approached, Solas realized.

“That is true. I will observe.”

He stepped back and watched as Ashara settled into a stable stance, rooted but ready to move at a moment’s notice, as he’d taught her since she was barely tall enough to reach his waist. Lucius stood opposite her, and assumed a stance of his own. More relaxed. Did he not take this seriously? Then Ashara cast, and Solas caught at once the difference in what she was doing - not pulling on the places where the Fade was naturally strongest around her, no finesse or delicacy in the motions of her wrists and hands at all - she was strong-arming the energy near her with a pattern he’d seen Dorian use in the past. Then in a flash Lucius struck with his dispel, an admittedly impressive arcing motion with a fair amount of power behind it - that was the reason for the higher, more relaxed stance - and Ashara’s barrier shattered at once, knocking her back.

“Still too slow,” Lucius said.

“Hold,” Solas said. “Ashara - why are you casting it that way? That is not how you were taught.”

“I’ve been trying it the way Lucius and Claudia do it,” she said. “Lucius pointed out that I can do it more quickly if I know the pattern by rote instead of improvising every time - and it’s still very stable overall.”

“But in time, as your skills refine, the way you first learned will be better than theirs. Human mages have always had far less time to master such skills; they need something rote and dependable. Our people did not traditionally have such limitations on our magic.”

Lucius looked away. Ashara looked both embarrassed and annoyed. He had misstepped.

“It’s fine to try new things,” she said stiffly.

“I did not mean to impose,” Lucius replied. “You have not seen each other in some time. I will leave you to your own training.”

“I’ll see you and Claudia soon,” Ashara said. “Don’t get lost.”

Lucius nodded, and turned to leave. Solas took the opportunity to close the distance between himself and Ashara once more.

“How well do you know him?” he asked, switching back to Elvhen, though there was little chance Lucius would hear them. There was a closeness in speaking the language he’d spoken to her since she was born, knowing that few around them could understand it.

“Very well,” she replied without hesitation.

“You only met a month ago.”

“A little more than that. And what we have seen and done together - traveling, the fights, the experiments - he has been very helpful. Very kind.”

“And you trust him?”

She did not respond quite so quickly. “Yes. Of course. Why else would I still be in his company?”

He decided to press. “Ashara.”

“I do trust him! And you should trust me. At least a little. At least try.”

He shook his head. “It isn’t you that I distrust. It’s the world around you.”

She looked ready to argue the point, but then she let her breath out all at once. “Fine. I’m hungry. Is Mamae awake?”

“Perhaps by now she is.”

“Then let’s go.”

They walked in silence back to the keep, Solas already wishing he could go back to the moment when she embraced him without hesitation, when they both acknowledged their fear and understanding. She was walking right beside him, but she had clearly withdrawn. Then she stopped at the door to the keep.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you can’t help but worry. I don’t want us to be angry at each other. Not now.”

“Neither do I,” he replied. She bumped her shoulder against his then, and smiled.

“I’ve missed you.”

He returned her smile, knowing he didn’t need to say anything else, and led her back inside.

*

It was good to be back in Skyhold. Claudia had only been a handful of times, but there was still a familiarity to it that she’d missed in their days on the road. She particularly enjoyed choosing a quiet place to eat and then observing the others in the main hall. Pious Andrastian pilgrims, reciting the Chant before they ate - Fereldan merchants with their mabari at their side - Orlesian tourists, gossiping about the stories they’d heard of the place...

“I thought you said he was nicer than I would expect,” Lucius said when he sat down beside her.

“Who?” Claudia asked, still half-lost in her observations.

“Solas.”

Venhedis. What had Lucius done?

“He is. What happened?”

“I was out wandering around the courtyard and Ash called me over. They were training together. She wanted me to join in, and I did, and I’m fairly certain he wanted to turn me to stone on the spot.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing! I was following Ash’s lead the entire time.”

Claudia pushed her porridge around. How did southerners eat this? Then she snorted.

“Well, as far as I know he’s quite nice. Then again, I’m not doing… whatever it is you’re doing with his daughter.”

“Fasta vass. He probably knows. He’s going to kill me.”

“I’ll attend the funeral.”

“My sincerest gratitude.” Lucius pushed away his own bowl of porridge.

“What _is_ going on between you?” Claudia asked, switching to Tevene. “Not physically. I’m not interested in that. Is there more than that?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what she feels, or you don’t know what you feel?”

“Both? Two months ago, I was just a too-old Laetan still hoping desperately to be noticed by a magister so I could start my life. Since then, I’ve found a patron, left Tevinter for the first time, questioned whether or not the life I always thought I wanted, lied to that patron - and Ashara’s at the center of all of that. I haven’t had time to question how and why.” Lucius dragged a hand through his hair. “Has - has she said anything to you?”

“If she had, would I tell you?”

“Fair enough.”

Lucius pulled his bowl of porridge back and began to grudgingly eat it. Claudia took that opportunity to observe him, as she had the strangers around her. It took her back to the first meal they shared in Minrathous, when Ashara was trying to convince him that they should go hunt wyverns together, rather than apart. How distant he was then, how determined he was to give away no more than necessary. He’d done such a good job that she was almost convinced he was in fact a cold and distant person. Now she could see that those guards had fallen away. He was radiating frustration and discomfort, making no attempt to appear any more in control than he was. It was an act of trust - one she wanted to make good on.

“I’ve been on the outside watching you two since almost the day you met. Do you want to know what I think?” She said.

He nodded.

“I think you’re both searching for something. You may be able to find it together. But you both need to be careful, or all you’ll do is hurt each other.”

Lucius stared hard at the table, and traced a knot in the wood with his finger. “You’re right,” he said.

“You sound surprised.”

“I didn’t think you were paying such close attention.”

“One of the benefits of being a quiet observer. I catch things people don’t catch in themselves.”

“Well, keep it up.”

They ate (or tried to) in companionable silence for a short time after that, until Ashara sat down beside them.

“I was going to go upstairs but then I saw you two - I’m sorry for my father’s rudeness,” she said at once to Lucius. “He didn’t really mean any of it as an insult. He’s been under so much strain, lately. Don’t judge him by that.”

“It’s no trouble. I hope he doesn’t think poorly of me.”

“I don’t think he has much room to think about anything other than Mamae - and, well, me. With everything I’ve been doing.”

Ashara sounded guilty now. No glowing confidence. Claudia took her hand.

“Did he figure out what the spirit did?” Claudia asked.

“No. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I feel fine. What matters now is showing him how the conduit works, and getting ready to actually try it on Mamae.”

She joined them for the rest of their breakfast, though she wasn't enthused about the porridge any more than they were, and swore that she would make sure they all ate privately with her parents later instead of sharing the communal meal. When they were close to done, Solas appeared.

Claudia didn’t envy Lucius the way he sat up straighter and more tense at the elf’s approach. He _was_ intimidating - even, she suspected, if you didn’t know who he was. She herself was practically shaking when she first met him, and that was a simple social call with Dorian and Bull at her side, where she was instantly welcomed into their makeshift family. She was eighteen at the time - Ashara was sixteen, if she remembered right - and Ellana’s sickness had only just begun to show. She couldn’t imagine meeting him now, with such tension in the air. When the very man who held the keys to his future had commanded him to act as a spy.

“Ah - I see you have eaten,” Solas said when he reached them. “Ellana wanted to invite you upstairs to dine with us. I am sure she would be glad of the company, even if you don’t eat.”

“We would be delighted,” Claudia said.

Their private quarters were up an annoyingly long staircase. Claudia had only been in them once or twice, and again she was impressed. They were spacious, with large glass windows of Dalish design, an elegant, four-poster bed that was far more graceful than its heavier Tevene counterparts, a beautifully painted dressing screen that sectioned off part of the room, and a couch, low table, and chairs. Ellana was sitting up in the bed, wearing a robe, with a tray of food on her lap.

“Welcome,” she said. “Please, come sit.”

“On dhea, Mamae,” Ashara said, crossing to her mother and kissing her cheek. “Are we ready to take a look at what we have? I can run back and get the conduit.”

“Can’t we at least visit a bit?” Ellana said, frowning. “You haven't even been home for half a day. I’ve barely spoken to Claudia or Lucius yet.”

Beside her, Claudia could feel Lucius take a steadying breath.

“Yes - sorry, Mamae,” Ashara said. “Oh, you have fresh berries. Can I? They’re so much better than porridge.”

There was porridge on the tray too, though it looked mostly untouched, as did several other things.

“You’re certain you don't want them?” Solas asked, quietly. Ellana shook her head.

“Not right now. More tea, though?”

“Not coffee?” Ashara asked.

“No - it's been to harsh on my stomach, lately. But enough of this - come sit, please. I wish I could host you better than this. How have you found Skyhold so far, Lucius?”

They each took up a seat on the couch, while Ashara made herself comfortable on the bed beside her mother.

“It’s magnificent, of course. I feel fortunate to see it.”  Lucius was sitting up straight, using his best posture and manners, clearly rehearsed for such an occasion - the skills of any Laetan who had to win the approval of their betters. It must have been killing him not to use a title with her.

“Good. How have you found the South so far? Claudia, even for you this has been a long trip - and your first one without Dorian, correct? Oh - don't let me forget - he’d love to hear from you today. Let's find a terribly inopportune moment to call him. I love when he gets flustered.”

Conversation with Ellana had always been easy, Claudia found. Once the conversation started, she listened more than she spoke, pausing only to ask questions. It wasn't long before they were sharing stories of their journey, from their first meetings to their explorations of Minrathous and Val Chevin. They tried to avoid the more dangerous parts of the story, though at one point when Ashara was trying to demonstrate how Lucius reacted to a ram that startled him in the mountains, her clothes moved enough for something to catch Ellana’s eye.

“Ashara! That scar -”

Ashara’s hand flew to the place high on her shoulder, close to her neck, immediately.

“It’s fine. It looks worse than it was. Claudia had to help the soldiers first, so she didn’t have as much energy to heal me - especially after the templar - well, you know.”

Ellana sighed, then looked more closely at her daughter. “You haven’t been taking care of your hair either. Now you see why I kept it so short when I was in the field all the time. I hope in the midst of all of this _fun_ you were still eating and sleeping well.”

“Yes, Mamae.”

Solas was quiet through their entire exchange, which was not unusual for him in Claudia’s experience. At that moment, he spoke up.

“If everyone is feeling rested, perhaps now is a time to see what this journey has brought us.”

“Yes,” Ashara said, getting up at once. “I’ll got get the conduit. Should we try it here, or somewhere else?”

“Here, for now. If it looks like it will work - when we are ready to truly try it - we will go to the place in Skyhold where the Veil is thinnest.”

“I’ll be right back, then.”

Ashara warped the Fade around her as she left, and before Claudia had a chance to process it, they were alone with her parents.

“I want to thank you - both of you - for all that you’ve done,” Ellana said. “Not just for me. For her. We were so worried about letting her go to Tevinter, even if she was with Dorian. It makes me happy to see that she found people she trusts and cares for, and who care for her in return.”

“You’re too kind,” Claudia said. “It’s been my pleasure.”

“And you, Lucius? Would you say the same?”

“Of course.”

Ashara returned then, with another warping of the Fade around her, the conduit in hand.

“Well? Shall we?”

*

It worked of course. They knew it would. They’d tried these sorts of tests with Dagna - how much energy could it hold, was the Veil attracted to it, how far away could it be from the mage who was directing the energy into it, did the energy stay contained or try to move to a new host - but Claudia didn’t blame Solas for wanting to inspect it himself. With Ellana sitting there, watching carefully but contributing nothing to the discussion, this wasn’t theoretical anymore. This wasn’t dusty books in Minrathous or damp caves or dangerous mines or Dagna in her workshop. This was the life of the woman in the room, who had not left her bed yet that morning, who had barely touched her breakfast.

Claudia almost wanted to tell them to test it one more time.

“There’s only one last test to run,” Solas said, looking to Ellana. She squared her shoulders.

“Very well. What do I do?”

“Take this,” he said, handing her the smooth, round conduit, and then sitting on the bed before her. “I’ll do the rest. Tell me at once if it hurts.”

Claudia held her breath, and then felt the tug in her mana as Solas began. Beside her, she saw Ashara take Lucius’s hand.

Ellana flinched at once, but then said: “It’s fine. No worse than usual. I can feel the energy moving.”

“I’ll go slowly.”

Claudia let out the breath she was holding, but Ashara didn’t drop Lucius’s hand. If anything, she held it tighter.

After another minute, Ellana flinched again, harder this time. “My back hurts - and my arm.”

The magic cut off at once.

“Let me see.”

They turned to each other, forming a little circle while Solas checked his wife’s back.

“I think it’s working,” Ashara said, so quiet Claudia almost missed the words. “This is going to work.”

Lucius squeezed her hand. “I hope so, formosa.”

Claudia raised her eyebrows at that. “Formosa? I didn’t realize we had pet names now.”

Ashara blushed and might have said something, had her father not spoken then, causing them to turn back to the bed.

“It’s as I suspected. The flesh where the energy has gathered is damaged, and removing the energy exacerbates that damage. Exactly as the Anchor did, though not quite as severe. For one thing, I don’t think we should guide the energy through your arm, as we risk further damage to your body. We have already established that the conduit doesn’t need to be in contact with you to work. For another, I think we will need one mage to heal the damaged flesh as the other draws the energy away, to prevent that pain you just felt.”

“You’re the most skilled at healing of the four of us,” Ashara pointed out.

“But I am also the most familiar with the energy we’re working with,” he countered.

“I can draw the energy towards the conduit. It’s naturally attracted there - it isn’t as complicated as when you’re trying to subdue it when it flares up. And if something starts to go wrong - Claudia is a good healer too, and she can step in while you correct whatever needs correcting. And Lucius can help - we may need lyrium if we grow tired.”

Solas nodded slowly, then turned to Ellana. “What do you think, vhenan?”

“I trust you,” she said. “I’m ready to begin whenever you are.”

*

It didn’t take long to get ready.

They gathered lyrium potions from the storage Solas directed them too, as well as a few other things they thought might be useful - Claudia went to her room for her entire healing kit, and Lucius and Ashara went to the kitchen for water and food that could be quickly and easily eaten. Once everything was gathered, they met Solas and Ellana in a room just off the main hall.

“Ready?” Solas said. “Down we go, then.”

“Down?” Lucius asked. “Forgive me - I assumed that if we were looking for a place where the Veil was thin, we might go up instead.”

“I think something about the way the Veil was described for so long makes people think that the Fade is hidden away in the sky. It is everywhere, even in the very deep places of the world,” Solas said. “It so happens that the weakest point in Skyhold is down here.”

It certainly got colder the further they went down - and the Veil did get thinner. At one point, passing a closed door, Claudia caught an odd magical signature - something powerful and stable - a ward of some kind, maybe? Not any ward that she recognized. Ashara and Lucius noticed it too - though only Ashara looked shocked by it. She asked her father something in Elvhen, to which he replied sternly. Almost harshly. The worried look didn’t leave Ashara’s face.

“What was that?” Lucius asked.

“Nothing,” she said.

“Here we are,” Solas said as they arrived in an open space. “We are inside the mountain now, surrounded by its ancient power. It will not be so hard for us to use our own power, and we will not be disturbed as we work.”

There were already chairs in the room, though only three. Perhaps Solas had intended that this would be only a family affair. Ellana moved towards the one in the center, loosening the ties on the tunic she’d donned as she did so.

“Would it help to see as you worked?” She asked.

“Yes, actually.”

“Oh,” was all Lucius managed before she’d removed the tunic entirely and sat on the chair, her back to them. She still wore a breastband, of course, but as she turned away from them to drape the tunic over the chair, they could all see the scars that marked her skin - and the way her back was split apart by cracks of green light, radiating out from a central point. “Maybe I shouldn’t -” Lucius began again.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Ellana said as she sat facing the back of the chair. “I’ve never been shy. When we’re done here, I’ll tell you the story of the time Cassandra and Varric had to explain shem standards of modesty to me.”

 _When we’re done here._ Claudia closed her eyes and prayed to Andraste and the Maker alike then. _Let this end well. Let this work. Let there be peace after this._

“Well?” Ellana asked as they stood there.

Ashara took the conduit from her father, then moved to stand behind her mother. She thought for a moment, then set it down and used both arms to embrace her instead. She said something quiet, too quiet for Claudia to catch, and Ellana squeezed her hand. Then she picked the conduit back up and took a deep, centering breath. Solas joined her.

“Look,” he said, pointing to one of the lines of green energy. “This morning - that was all damaged tissue. Now the energy is back. I fear we will have to do this all at once - or, at least, remove enough energy that it can’t replicate so quickly. We may be here for some time.”

“I’m ready,” Ashara said.

Claudia prayed again.

Solas was the one to call on the energy, to begin its journey towards the conduit, but immediately after that, Claudia felt the soothing flow of healing magic surround him instead as Ashara took over his role. Ellana flinched once more, and now Claudia could see why - the energy was moving beneath her skin, sparking in places, like water beneath ice.

“Good?” Solas asked.

“Fine,” Ellana said. “The healing helps.”

It all felt like one long, tense moment. Later, Claudia would try to figure out exactly how long it went on for, and find herself at a loss to say. There was no light other than the torches they lit to judge by. What Claudia could see was how, slowly but surely, the green energy was shrinking down, leaving behind tender flesh, scarred in some places. How Ashara and Solas both fell into the same rhythm of deep inhales and exhales. How halfway through Lucius noticed that Ashara needed lyrium, and how he carefully held her chin and tipped the potion into her mouth - the little smile they shared when he did. How Ellana, too, took deep breaths, shivering once in awhile. How utterly silent it all was, until the moment when it wasn’t any longer.

Most of the energy was gone when it happened. Solas had asked Claudia to step in and begin healing alongside him as they reached the parts where the damage was severe, where the energy had lived for years and years. Ellana was sweating, she noticed, though it was cold. Then she grit her teeth, and went rigid.

“It’s harder now,” Ashara said. “There’s resistance. I can't - I feel like I can't - my magic -”

Solas took a deep breath and split his focus - one hand next to Ashara’s on the conduit, and the other still directed toward her back. Claudia felt his healing energy slacken and directed more of her own to make up the difference - then there was a flare of green light, Ashara and Solas talking rapidly, her own magic rushing back into her in a sudden wave, Lucius darting forward to catch Ellana as she fell - then Solas taking his place - Ellana was convulsing, there was another rush of healing magic but it was Solas this time - he couldn’t seem to make it stop - all of them talking all at once -

“Sleep.”

Solas’s voice at last cut through the noise, reverberating with the power of the spell he cast. Ellana went slack in his arms.

Now it was silent once more.

Claudia prayed in that silence.

“What happened?” Ashara asked at last, her voice unsteady. “I felt the resistance and I felt you start to unravel it - but then it was like the energy was everywhere all at once - but we’d removed most of it - so where did the new energy come from?”

Solas adjusted his hold on his wife so that her head rested against his shoulder and she was cradled more carefully in his lap. Her body still twitched now and then, and with the way he was holding her now, Claudia could see her back again. Where, slowly but surely, the green light was finding places to seep through her skin once more.

“What shone through her skin was only ever the part we could see,” Solas said, his voice unsteady as his daughter’s. “I always sensed more beneath it. But not as much as we felt in that last surge. It was widespread - everywhere inside her all at once - it was -”

“- it was in her blood,” Ashara said then, voice soft with horror. “Magic lives in the blood. The spirit - the spirit told me that. And if it’s in her blood, the way mana is in any mage’s blood -”

“It may be capable of reproducing infinitely,” Solas finished. “Even if we overcame that resistance we experienced today - whatever that was - I don’t know that we could ever be certain of its full removal.”

Ashara sank down into one of the other chairs. She was shaking a little, too. Then she stood again and began to pace.

“But now we know, right? It’s just another mystery to untangle. We have a definite angle to research, to experiment with -”

“Ashara. We still need to see if she is whole when she wakes.” The words were as gentle as he could make them around the sound of his own fear.

Claudia watched Ashara’s jaw working at words she could not say. The way she tried to square her shoulders. Her hands as they clenched and unclenched. She wished for something - anything - to say. But in the end there was nothing.

Solas carried Ellana back to their room - or so Claudia could only assume, because they didn’t follow past the main hall. It caused a stir, of course. Everyone went silent at the sight, even as quickly as Solas moved. Ashara just stood and watched them go, in a daze, like it might still be a dream. Then she shook her head and took off in the direction of the library. Both she and Lucius followed close behind, but she still beat them up the stairs. She was already pulling books off the shelves - nonsensical books, books on herbs and Fereldan kings and Orlesian wine alongside necromancy and poison-making.

“Maybe it was the stormheart,” she said when she sensed their presence. “Maybe a different metal. Maybe something that could attract all of it out of her blood, get it to pool in one place so we can remove it - maybe two conduits -”

“Ash,” Claudia said.

“Maybe a different enchantment on the second conduit - I know somewhere in here there’s a book on blood magic -”

“Ash,” Claudia tried again.

“It might not even need to be blood magic - something happened with my magic today - I faltered, I felt blocked - once we figure that out -”

“Ashara,” Lucius said then, soft but insistent, as he turned her to face him. Ashara tried one more time to speak, but all that came were tears.

She cried more quietly than Claudia thought she would, even if her body shook with the force of the tears. Lucius just pulled her close to him, winding one arm around her waist and the other along her back so he could cradle her head. He hushed her softly, told her he wasn’t letting go, that she wasn’t alone. Somehow the quiet words and endearments broke Claudia’s heart more. Because no matter what he said, no matter how long he held her, it could no longer stop what was coming.

She did quiet eventually and pull away from him, wiping her eyes as she did so. Then her gaze drifted back to her pile of books.

“There has to be something different we can try,” she said.

Claudia opened her mouth to speak and then met Lucius’s eyes. He shook his head.

“I think what everyone needs right now is rest,” Claudia said instead. “Let’s walk you back to your room. You used a lot of energy today.”

“No,” Ashara said, shaking her head. “I’m going to see Mamae.”

She left without another word.

“Should we follow?” Lucius asked.

“No,” Claudia said. “I think they need this moment. As a family.”

Lucius nodded, and began putting back the books Ashara had taken down, one by one, as if by that careful, methodical action he could reorder the fractured world around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :( :( :( :( :( :( Tune in next time to see how everyone in the family reacts and what they each think should be done next.
> 
> Thanks as always to reading, writing, and commenting! You guys make this writer's day.
> 
> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/).


	15. One Last Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which everyone is sad and cuddly and then sad again and then cuddly again.
> 
> Random detail: Oruvun is a place in the west of Enasan. It’s mentioned like… four times in “Body of Knowledge.” There are a few other references to events in that fic towards the end of the chapter, which are hopefully explained well enough that newcomers will get them - if not, feel free to ask :)
> 
> Random detail #2: there’s a random blink-and-you’ll-miss-it “Hamilton” quote mostly because it made me chuckle in a scene that was breaking my heart and so far I don’t think this fic has had any, which is a tragedy. (I have a problem. I acknowledge this.) I also stole the chapter title from a different song.

The littlest things drew Ashara’s attention on the way to her parents’ quarters. A crack in a flagstone. An abandoned mug of ale. The fact that daylight was already waning outside. A sudden laugh from somewhere else in the keep. They were bright spots of reality in the fog that surrounded her. Crack, mug, laugh, light. Nothing else was real. It couldn't be. Not the ache in her head from crying. Not the bone-deep weariness of using so much mana. Not the memory of Mamae as she fell, her body wracked with tremors.

Then she reached her parents’ quarters and saw her mother lying on the bed. So still. Like she was already lifeless. The wave of pain rose into her throat again.

_Someday, this will be real._

Papae was there too, of course, standing over her, his hands surrounded by the blue glow of healing. He didn't notice her at first where she stood at the top of the stairs. Then he caught her eye, and his face softened from the hard, concentrated countenance he wore before.

“Come here,” he said, as the blue glow faded.

He embraced her gently, then drew back, thumb swiping across her cheekbone. Perhaps she was crying again. She hoped not.

“You couldn't have known,” he said. “You tried so hard. You were so close to a solution.”

She nodded in acknowledgement. “How is she?”

“She seems to be fine. I would search for her in the Fade, but the spell I used renders the affected person totally unconscious - there would be nothing for us to find, at least until the sleep became more natural. I am trying to see if I can slow the regeneration of the energy we removed for now.”

“And?”

He shook his head. He sounded so calm. Ashara doubted that anyone who didn't know him would see what she saw. His tight jaw. His too-quiet voice. The stiffness in his usually fluid movements. She tried to imagine, for a moment - tried to expand the spark in her chest when Lucius smiled to something big and powerful and two decades old - tried to picture someone she loved so much in such pain. She couldn't. She didn't want to.

“There still could be a solution,” she said. “We just need to look for it.”

Her father shook his head and brought healing energy through the Veil once more.

“I worried this could be a problem. I have been looking for a solution - an ancient memory I found about an early ritual to remove vallaslin involving some kind of blood magic. But so far, I have not found anything conclusive.”

Something sharp and hopeful pierced the fog that surrounded her.

“But now we’ll both be looking. We’ll find something.”

“Maybe.”

They were silent a while longer. Ashara realized how thirsty she was and went to the pitcher of water they always kept on hand to pour herself a drink. She chilled it first, wincing at the drain on her weak mana, then drank it down, and tried to focus on the sensation alone: cold and pure and nourishing. No other thought than a thirst being quenched. Nothing else.

Except her mind had never worked that way. A hundred thoughts still lurked. Including one there hadn’t been a chance to address yet. The unmistakable magical energy she felt on their way to the room where they tried the ritual and failed.

“Why is there an eluvian in Skyhold?” she asked.

Her father went still.

“It was a necessary precaution,” he said, resuming his healing. “There have been some - situations that I needed to tend to at home and it would have been unsafe to be away from your mother for so long - or for her to travel with me.”

“Isn’t it illegal to have one outside of Enasan? Does Aunt Cass know?”

“Yes, and no. Which is why you will not breathe a word of this to anyone. It is under every conceivable ward, and no one else goes into that part of the keep in any case.”

It was lucky that she was already so numb. Otherwise her voice might rise. She might process how dangerous this was. How he’d told her she was reckless and irresponsible. How she’d told Lucius and Claudia that he was different now, that he was committed to the promises he’d made. But there was no time for that now. No energy.

“Claudia and Lucius noticed something was off. I doubt they know what it was. I suppose I’ll lie to them.”

Well, there was a little bitterness in the words. Maybe she wasn't as detached as she thought.

“You look tired,” her father said after a brief silence. “You should go and rest. I will come for you if anything happens.”

“Very well.”

She turned to go. She was to the stairs by the time he spoke again.

“Ashara -” He said.

She turned back. He’d started walking towards her, then stopped again. There was still a fair distance between them.

“I don't know what to say,” he admitted.

“I don't either,” she said.

The silence stretched between them again, until at last the fog lifted enough.

“In the morning,” she offered finally. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I hope so. Good night, da’vhenan. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Simple words. Something they hadn’t said to each other in some time, she realized, for no particular reason. Something began to unravel in her at that, even as she walked away. All wasn't lost. They had each other. She had Lucius and Claudia. There was a way. She knew there was.

Lucius was waiting by her door when she reached her room, something that made her pulse speed up unbidden. He straightened up at once when he saw her.

“I wanted to make sure you were - well, not fine but - obviously you aren’t fine - I wanted -” He sighed. “I just wanted to see you. To ask if there was anything I could do.”

The fog lifted a little further. She took in his dark, worried eyes. Remembered the warm solidness of him when he took her in his arms. She stepped towards him and something in her face must have given her away, because he just opened his arms again and welcomed her in, and this time, as her mind stilled, she could appreciate the thump of his heart.

“You’re going to be fine,” he said. “You know that, right?”

Not _it’s going to be fine_  or _your mother is going to be fine_. She didn’t miss the difference. She wanted to point it out. To argue, maybe, that she would most certainly not be fine if there was no solution. But there was no fight left in her for that, and his hand was drawing soothing circles on her back, and he didn’t mean any harm.

“Thank you,” she said, pulling back enough to see him.

“Get some rest,” he said. He looked at her for a moment, then leaned down towards her, slowly enough for her to catch his intent, for her to tilt her face up in reply, and when their lips met it was a gentle thing. No press of desire behind it. “Sleep well,” he said when they parted.

It didn’t occur to her until she was lying in the darkness of her room that she might have asked him to stay, if only to feel the rhythm of his breath, to lace her fingers with his. Maybe tomorrow night. For now, it was time to bury herself in her blankets, close her eyes, and dream deep. Deep enough to scratch that itch in the back of her skull. The one that said the solution was closer than she thought.

*

“Fuck.”

It was the first word out of Ellana’s mouth when she woke. Not exactly an elegant entrance back into the waking world. But there was nothing elegant about waking to feel every muscle already pulled tight as a bowstring, or to fire engulfing your back.

“Here.”

Solas. Of course he was already awake, already reaching out with healing hands, asking her where it hurt the most, lifting her head to get her to drink just a little water. She hadn’t even opened her eyes yet. When she did, his face was the first thing she saw. Eyebrows drawn together, lips in a straight line. He softened when their eyes met.

“How do you feel now?”

“Everything hurts,” she admitted.

She didn’t say the first thought that came into her head when she woke. She couldn’t believe she was actually still alive. She kept going back to the moment when every nerve sang with pain - when she could feel every vein in her body - she had been certain that moment was her last.

“We think we know what happened, if you want to hear,” he offered.

She nodded, and he confirmed what she’d felt. The magical energy in her blood. Its roots so deep down in her they could never be pulled loose. The way it was pooling on her back once more. Perhaps they could attempt the ritual every now and then, see if they could slow the process, but it was no cure.

“How is Ashara?” She asked when he was done.

“Not well. She came here last night. She’d been crying, of course. I assume Lucius and Claudia were with her. She’s already trying to figure out what to do to fix this. And she found out about the eluvian.”

Now her heart ached, too. Ashara walked out of the doors of this very keep seven months before, a smile on her face, convinced she would find the solution, and Ellana hadn’t been there to comfort her when that illusion came crashing down.

“Would you bring her here, please?” She asked.

“Of course. But first -”

Solas leaned over her - he hadn’t been on the bed, had he slept at all? - and kissed her for a long, long moment, pressing harder and harder as it went on, not enough to hurt her, but enough to make his hurt known. She ran her hand down the side of his face, along his ear, to the back of his neck so she could pull him ever closer, comforting him the only way she knew.

He was gone a long while, long enough for Ellana to really take stock of her body in the way she only could when she was alone. Her hand searched out old scars, new sore spots, pressed her lips just to feel the tenderness he’d left behind to keep her company. She was slow and tired and hurt and trapped inside this body that refused to heal. But she sat up to stretch it anyway, to prove that it was still hers, pain and all.

Ashara arrived the way she often did, her movements quick and light, words already on her lips.

“I am so sorry, Mamae,” she said at once, before she even reached the bed and embraced her. “I didn’t think we would hurt you like that. It happened so fast.”

“It isn’t your fault. You thought of everything you could.”

“I have more thoughts, now. Papae told me something last night, about an early ritual to remove vallaslin that he thought was promising, and I went searching for more details and I found a memory of slaves being taken somewhere to have the ritual performed, and I recognized the landscape - it was Oruvun. So maybe if we go and search the Fade there we can find out more - it could be the solution. It wouldn’t even take long with an eluvian - ”

“I don’t want you to,” Ellana said.

“What?” Ashara said.

“I don’t want you to try and find another way to save me.”

The room was very quiet. Only the bed creaked where Ellana shifted. Both Ashara and Solas were looking at her. The same blue eyes. The same frown. The two halves of her heart. Now she would break theirs with the words she’d held back for so long.

“Anything you try is risky,” she began. “Not just to me, but to you. Whatever time I have left - I don’t want you two spending it with your noses in books, worrying and experimenting and blaming yourselves when it doesn’t work. I want us to spend that time together. I want you to begin accepting where this ends.”

Of course there was a lump in her throat at that thought. For them, for herself. Of course she wanted to take the words back at once. Maybe she should just let them have hope while they could. But there were hungry spirits out there, and angry templars, and the bitterness of failure, and was it so selfish, really, to want them to sit here with her, to read, to paint, to talk, to remember, for however long they had left together?

“But - we can’t just give up. Not when there’s a chance. I still need you,” Ashara said, rising from the bed. “I left all those months ago and I was so sure of myself. Of the world around me. Now…”

Of course it filled her heart to hear that. To be needed, still, so many years after the bruised knees and bedtime stories were over. She searched for what she could say, what she could offer that would ease the pain of that need.

“I was younger than you are now when my parents died. Just sixteen. My father first. Then three days later my mother. And on that fourth day, I woke up and couldn’t believe that sun had come up. How could it? And how could I get up and go on without them?” Ellana reached as best as she could for her daughter, but she was too far. She didn’t move to take her hand. “But I did. I found strength where I thought I had none. You will find that strength too, Ashara. Anything else is impossible. You are already so brave.”

“I can’t do what you’re asking me to do,” she said, more shocked than anything else. “I can’t just give up.”

“Your mother is right,” Solas said, though his voice was quiet. “There are dangers in what you speak of. Do you not find it strange that in one night you found a memory I spent months searching for?”

“Two Dreamers may approach the Fade differently. Perhaps I looked in different places than you did.”

“Your pain is clouding your judgment. Something is wrong here, and you know it,” he said. Ellana felt the familiar back and forth beginning to build.

“Do you not feel the same pain?” Ashara shot back.

“Enough,” Ellana said at once, before the storm gathering in Solas’s eyes could break loose. “Do you not see? I don’t want these to be our last memories together. Fighting and worrying in an endless loop...”

Eyes met. Breaths were taken.

“I’m sorry,” Ashara offered.

“I don’t expect you to accept this right now,” she said. “Maybe not even tomorrow. Maybe not even the day after. I know it’s not in your nature - in either of your natures - to give up. Don’t see it that way. See it as honoring what I want.”

“I’ll try,” Ashara said, eyes lowered. She remained a little longer, then said something about needing air, and slipped away.

Solas remained. His posture was stiff, formal. He smoothed the comforters and rearranged the pillow at her side. Then he went to the armoire with their clothes in it and began stripping down to change. He was still wearing what he had on the day before.

“What would you like for breakfast?” He asked, not turning.

She knew this mood. This mask. It was the first side of him she saw, the one she had to work and work to pry away.

“Solas,” she said. “You can let go.”

He paused in what he was doing, then replied. “I don't know what you mean.”

“You’re hurting too. Just like her. Please -” Dammit, why couldn't she just get up and go to him, speak to him in the language that was safest for them in these moments, as it always had been - the one that didn’t require words? Why did every fiber of her body ache? “Come here.”

He finished dressing. Paid too much attention to arranging his footwraps. Smoothing his tunic and adjusting his belt. Then he came to her side, and she took his hand.

“You can grieve, ma sa’lath,” she said.

He took a deep breath through his nose. His hand was tight around hers.

“Not yet,” he said. He lifted their joined hands and kissed hers, and left. He said something about breakfast again on his way out. She didn't respond. She sank back against the pillows. Flexed her toes and lifted her arms and grit her teeth through the pain of being alive.

*

Lucius didn't see Ashara until that afternoon, though he carried a knot in the shape of her name for hours in his throat. It surprised him, how much he wanted to hold her again when he saw her at last. Like it would help.

“Where’s Claudia?” She asked, after their brief greeting.

“Outside, I think.”

“Good. I wanted to give her the crystal so she can call Dorian. Walk with me?”

“Of course.”

They walked with space between them for a ways, then she brushed her hand against his and he took the offer.

“How are you? And your mother?” Claudia asked at once when she saw them.

Ashara shrugged. “Mamae gave me this so you can call Dorian.”

Even Claudia stared openly. Perhaps she, too, had never seen Ashara this subdued.

“Do you want to talk to him too?”

“Not right now.”

“Very well. He’s going to ask for you though, and you know how he reacts to the word ‘no.’” She threw in a teasing smile that won her a half-smile in return.

“I won't go far,” Ashara promised.

Lucius followed her as she wandered away, towards a nearby bench.

“How _is_ your mother?” He asked.

“As well as she can be,” Ashara sat down, wrapped her arms around herself, and tapped one foot. “She doesn't want us to find another way. I found a memory in the Fade. I had a lead. She doesn’t want me to follow through on it. She’s just going to -”

She still couldn't say the words. Lucius took her hand again. When was the last time he shared such intimacy with someone? He’d taken women to bed before without ever holding their hands.

“I don't know exactly what you’re feeling. I do know that there was nothing anyone could have said to me when my parents disappeared - when my brother died - that could have fixed it. Nothing can fix it -”

“But I _can_ fix it.”

He squeezed her hand.

“All I want to say is that you're not alone.”

She really met his eyes for the first time that day.

“Thank you.”

The moment might have stretched on longer, if Claudia didn’t wave them over. When they approached, she held out the crystal.

“Talvas.” Dorian voice came out brisk. “I saw your patron the other day.”

“Oh?” Lucius asked. It was the only word he could manage.

“He said he had not heard from you in some time. He seemed irritated. I told him you had only just reached Skyhold and likely couldn't write to anyone from the wilderness. Still - you should write. I don't enjoy getting pestered about other people’s business. Enough people pester me about my own.”

“Yes, ser. Thank you for passing the message on.”

Kaffas. He knew this was coming. Still. Now wasn’t the time.

“Are you there, Ashara?” Dorian continued.

“Yes, uncle.”

“I told Claudia already - when the Magisterium is no longer in session, I’m coming down there. To help in whatever way I can.”

“Mamae doesn't want us to help anymore.”

There was a long pause. Maybe a sigh - it was hard to hear.

“Like I said. In whatever way I can. It’ll be just in time for our birthdays, you know. Won't that be fun? You’ll be twenty, and I’ll be - older than that.”

“Hang on - I can do the math -”

“No, no, none of that. Give your mother a hug for me. A good one. Good-bye for now.”

The crystal dimmed and there was nothing but the cold mountain breeze around them until Ashara spoke again.

“I guess you’ll both go back to Tevinter now. I won't be going anywhere anymore.”

No. He couldn’t go now. Not even if that was the smart thing to do - tell Corix they had a falling out, that there was really no information to be gained, and that he was returning.

“I should be able to come back,” Claudia insisted. “There are still some tests for me to pass - some meetings I need to attend - but I should be an Enchanter by the time the Magisterium’s session ends. I’ll come with Dorian.”

Ashara nodded, and began drawing designs in the dirt with a toe.

“And I honestly don't know what Corix will want,” Lucius said tentatively. “Maybe he’ll want me to stay here until I find something suitably damning on your family, if he still believes I haven’t found anything yet.”

“We’re not going to disappear, is the point,” Claudia said.

It didn’t happen right away, but eventually Ashara smiled, and before long they were relaxing against the wall of the battlements, picking out pictures in the clouds and sharing silence in between.

And that night, after Claudia went up to bed, leaving them alone in the library, Ashara curled up against him and slept on his chest, and he was afraid to move, to disrupt the thump of belonging deep inside.

Her mother still found it difficult to leave bed for very long. To eat more than a little at a time. He went a whole day without seeing her smile.

But the next day Ashara asked him to come have lunch with her at the Herald’s Rest. Just him. No parents, no Claudia. And they talked about ordinary things, like childhood memories and hypothetical dares, first kisses and worst nightmares.

And one day her mother made it all the way down to the main hall to greet some visiting dignitaries, only to be carried back up, shaking, the instant they left.

And every day Lucius watched the ravens come and go, and hoped one would bring news that the entirety of Tevinter had simply sunk into the sea.

*

Oruvun, Oruvun, Oruvun.

Ashara didn’t see it in her dreams after the night she went looking for the memory and found it - furtive elves, faces marked, making their way through valley and tree and stream, towards some dense jungle, towards some - _thing_ that she knew held answers. She saw it all so well in her waking mind that she could now trace it onto paper if she really wanted to.

Oruvun, Oruvun, Oruvun.

She wouldn’t search for it in the Fade. She wouldn’t. Mamae said this was over.

They all just had to - give up.

The Fade wasn’t the comfort to her it had been in anymore. She knew what her mind longed to conjure and knew she shouldn’t do it. She was always half-listening for the presence of the spirit called Friend, though there was no sign of him. Instead, there was another insistent presence nearby.

“I’m fine, you know,” she finally said the second night it happened. Then her father appeared in full.

“For now, yes. I’m here to make sure it stays that way.”

“What - for the rest of my life?”

“If necessary.”

They hadn’t spoken alone, she realized. Not since the night of the ritual. Not since Mamae woke and said that she didn’t want them to try and find a cure. She couldn’t hide the agony of that thought in the Fade the way she was learning to in waking. She knew he felt it too. The heat of it.

“I know,” he said. He summoned a cool breeze and her skin no longer felt like it would blacken.

“What do we do?”

The cool breeze dissipated.

“Nothing.”

The rage again, the pain pooling in her gut like a sickness. She closed her eyes.

“This is not your burden to bear,” he said. “Dream of happier things.”

When she opened her eyes, he’d retreated, his presence a warm fuzz at the edge of her senses. A voice heard in another room. Instead she was surrounded by the forest glen he’d made for her, the first place she’d ever dreamed of. She sharpened every detail until she could feel the grass beneath her feet and smell the elfroot growing all around. She reached out, one by one, and felt the presence of those nearby - Papae, still hovering, Claudia, in her library, Lucius, with his brother. And Mamae, in that very same forest. She counted them over and over, and tried to let it be enough for now.

*

So. Oruvun.

That was where he needed to go.

Ashara said she’d recognized only the landscape, nothing else. She didn’t have a specific location. Solas did. He knew what was in Oruvun. The temple of Falon’Din.

Falon’Din who knew more than his share of blood magic.

(He didn’t like that she found the memory so easily. But still, no matter how often he checked - in the Fade and in daylight - he could find nothing amiss with her. Maybe she was right. A different approach was all it took. Still. She couldn’t know that he wanted to go. She couldn’t come with him. Just in case.)

He’d been to the temple before - when Ellana’s stomach was still huge and round and Ashara was still a mystery he felt only in stray kicks against his hand. When he was determined that his child would grow up in the world that he’d known. When he’d found the orb that he repurposed to begin slowly weakening the Veil in Enasan alone, so that someday, maybe, years from now - she might at least know his long life.

He still took a handful of days to think about it, to ensure Ellana was recovering properly. There were parts of the temple that none of his agents had been able to access after he removed the orb, and when he returned to the temple months later to examine them (and tried to pretend he didn’t miss the weight of that little infant girl in his arms every minute he was away), he could not access them either. Perhaps he would need to retrieve the focus first before he left now - then again, perhaps he only needed the motivation he felt burning in his chest.

Because that morning, as he lay awake at her side, having just parted from Ashara in the Fade, he was burning. He was seeing Ellana fall, over and over. Seeing Ashara’s tear-streaked face. Feeling the weight of the months and months and months of watching his heart, his home, his mate slowly slip away. He let out a deep breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and felt the tears that came with it, the ones he swallowed down again and again.

“Come here,” Ellana said. No other greeting, just her arms outstretched, the early morning burr in her voice. The welcome refuge of her body as he rested his head on her chest.

“You can let go,” she said again.

He took another breath and the tears receded. “Not yet,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think I’ve ever had so many characters hug so many times. Everyone just cuddle and comfort each other, okay?
> 
> Guys… I have long since given up predicting exactly what will happen in which chapter, but we’re pretty much at that point when the game flashes the message saying “Starting this mission will trigger events that lead to the end of the story. Some sidequests may no longer be available.” EEP. I spent an hour and a half hashing it out with my incredibly patient husband (did he know he was signing up for this when he bought me Inquisition 6 months ago? I think not) and I am still terrified that I am not up to the task. Time will tell! Thank you as always for reading/commenting/leaving kudos/subscribing :) :)
> 
> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/).


	16. Unraveling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! Not much to say but enjoy :)

A week passed from the day they tried to cure her, and Ellana thought she might lose her mind if she stayed in her quarters much longer. She was feeling better - her appetite was even restored a little - and she knew her family needed her. Needed normalcy, of some sort. Nothing went terribly wrong in that week, but everything was off-balance. Ashara was quieter than usual, staring much but saying little whenever she was alone with her parents. She was a little better when Claudia and Lucius were present - but then Solas was given to stony silences. Even Solas was different with her - distant in a way he hadn’t been in years. No casual touches, no sly smile when she brought up an old joke between them. And for that matter, father and daughter didn’t seem to be talking to each other much, either.

She knew she upset the equilibrium of the last three years when she told them to stop searching for a cure. She knew there would be an adjustment. It was time for her to help that adjustment along, to name all the unnamed things they were carrying around them.

“What’s wrong between you and Ashara?” she asked on that seventh day, when they had retired for the evening.

“She feels I am hovering over her in the Fade,” Solas admitted. “Simply because I have been monitoring all of her dreams.”

Of course.

“Vhenan,” she sighed. “She does need _some_ privacy.”

“She’s lucky I’m not insisting on being fully present in every single one after what happened.”

“Instead of hovering over her, couldn’t you teach her something she can use to defend herself if it happens again?”

“She has been spending her mornings training with her friends. I would rather not share such things with them.”

Ellana was only surprised he didn’t call them shemlen.

“Magic aside - you’re not being very welcoming to them. To Lucius, especially. What do you think you’re accomplishing?”

“I am not trying to accomplish anything. I simply do not enjoy having a stranger present at a time like this.”

That was part of the truth. She forgot, sometimes, how different he was outside of their family. How much he valued the world they made, and how little he wanted anyone else in it. That would have to change someday, and she wouldn’t be there to see it happen. She needed to help him learn now, before she ran out of time.

“She likes him, you know. More than I’ve seen her like someone in years. Since I got sick.”

“And?”

“If you push him away, you push her away.”

Solas pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s not -”

“What? Elvhen?”

“Good enough.”

“In your mind, maybe. Not in hers.” She nodded to herself, feeling a plan forming. They hadn't spent much time together, all five of them. Someone always managed to be busy, or to eat early, or to be ready to sleep. “We’re all having dinner together tomorrow. In the new private dining room. We’re going to talk and you are going to be courteous at the very least. I’ll go down now and talk to the cook about the menu.”

“I’m not sure you should -”

“Please, Solas. I won’t die walking down the stairs.”

She saw him flinch and felt a twist of guilt. It was not kind of her to say it that way. But if that was what it took to crack the mask he was keeping in place, even with her… If only she could do what she’d done in the past, she mused as she made her way to the kitchens. Strip them both down until they were bare in every way, take command until he had to give in and let go. But she felt tired already, halfway across the main hall. Another night, then. She would feel better tomorrow.

Except that the next day she could feel her weakness everywhere, sitting up straight in the uncomfortable chair in the room where she used to plot the movement of armies, waiting for Ashara, Claudia, and Lucius. She’d lost muscle everywhere and now she felt it as she tried to hold the posture Josie had so carefully schooled in her. She let her shoulders slouch for now, and closed her eyes.

“If you need rest, we can go,” Solas said from his place at her side.

“I’ll be fine.”

She had to be, for now. It didn’t matter if Claudia and Lucius would be leaving soon, that it would be only the three of them once more. He needed to see how it could be when he let others in, what he would have to do as Ashara’s world grew, as she fell in love.

_I won’t be there to see that._

Claudia arrived first, and alone, having apparently spent the day corresponding with various people in Tevinter.

“Ashara and Lucius went for a walk together, last I saw. I am sure they’ll be here soon,” she assured them.

Their talk lapsed into idle conversation about Claudia’s progress towards the rank of Enchanter, her work in the discipline of necromancy, and they had already finished a glass of wine by the time Lucius and Ashara appeared, looking appropriately embarrassed. And, in Ashara’s case, a little more flushed than than was strictly necessary after a walk.

“Well then,” Ellana said, unable to stop herself from smirking at the sight. “Have a nice walk?”

“Oh, yes. We walked all the battlements and took in all the views,” she said as Lucius pulled out her chair for her to sit. But she kept her tone just a little bit too light as she said it. “Thank you, Lucius.”

“Of course,” he replied, finding his own seat.

Ellana could see Solas’s eyebrows draw together in irritation at the sight of them. She patted his thigh under the table, though it didn't seem to soothe him. This wasn’t a good start to the dinner - but surely he wouldn’t let it get to him. When she pulled her hand back, there was a bright flash of pain down her back. She grit her teeth through it. They didn't need to know.

“Claudia was telling us all about her plans for for becoming an Enchanter and continuing her studies in necromancy,” Ellana said. “I’m curious to hear what your plans are, Lucius.”

“Well,” he said, carefully taking his napkin and smoothing it over his lap. “I only just began the process. I need to determine what I will present to the Circle, begin researching it, making sure it works - and Magister Corix will need to approve of it, and begin introducing me to influential people in Minrathous...”

He had a habit of trailing off, Ellana noticed. A nervous tic, perhaps. He was soft-spoken for the most part, not like the brash young elves Ashara was first interested in. Even Claudia was quieter than the people Ashara typically befriended, for that matter. But sometimes she could hear their laughter echoing from another room, and she knew that much of this was the nervousness she was trying to quell.  
  
“That sounds like quite a process,” Ellana said. She twirled the squash around on her plate and ventured a bite. It went down well enough. The wine was relaxing her muscles. All of this was going well enough, so far.

“Are you an ambitious man, Lucius?” Solas asked.

Shit. She turned look at him, but he didn’t acknowledge her.

“I - wouldn't say so,” Lucius said.

“Yet the process of becoming an Enchanter forces one to have ambition, is it not? Otherwise, you would not succeed.”

“I wouldn't call it ambition - it is hard work, though,” Claudia offered.

“So I suppose your immediate plans will involve a good deal of research?” Ellana asked, hoping it would steer the conversation to clearer waters.

“Yes.” The poor man couldn’t seem to find a comfortable way to sit in his chair.

“If it's just research you can do it here, right?” Ashara said.

“For a little while, yes. Though I could never overstay my welcome.”

“Maybe you could stay until my birthday,” she said.

“That’s four months from now,” Solas said. “Who knows what will happen by then.”

Ashara’s face fell. From the change in Solas’s expression, he too realized the meaning behind what he said. For a little while there was no sound other than the scraping of knives and forks. Ellana’s back hurt and her chest was tight and she knew there had to be a way around this. A way that these last months - however many there were - would not be one long tense silence.

“I think Varric’s next serial will be out soon,” she said. “I look forward to reading it. The last ended with a cliffhanger. Have any of you read anything interesting lately?”

Lucius and Claudia responded, spawning a discussion about several Tevene authors that none of them had heard of. Ashara gamely asked questions, though something in her was flagging. Solas said nothing, though Lucius described one or two poets that he thought Solas would like. Ellana smiled through the conversation, just as Josie had once taught her years ago, even as her feet curled hard against the cold stone floor, like she could send the pain down through her toes.

“Is there much literature coming out of Enasan, now?” Lucius asked as the conversation went on.

“Why wouldn’t there be? Are the elves a less literary people than humans?” Solas replied, tartly.

“There is literature in Enasan. It’s just that most of it is in Elvhen,” Ashara said, each consonant clipped. She locked eyes with her father, then stabbed her fork into her next bite.

“I think Tarsian’s next installment will be out in the next six months. That’s around the time of your first anniversary, isn’t it?” Claudia ventured, naming a Tevene author that Ellana expressed interest in.

It took Ellana a moment to respond as she counted around the fire in her bones and the anger in her mind. Was it her imagination, or could she actually feel it in her blood now, too? Solas noticed, of course. He settled a hand on her back, though she tried to wave him away.

“Ah - yes. It is.”

“How are you going to celebrate it?”

She let out a long slow breath. The nausea was back now. But there was still dessert after this, and she’d hoped they might retire to a sitting room and relax further, and find something, anything, that would unwind this tension they were building and building…

“Well - I guess we just don’t know.”

As the words came out she knew there would be no rescuing the dinner. Not this way. Not diplomatically. The silence that followed showed that. Claudia bravely kept her chin up, waiting for another reply. Ashara slumped back against her seat. Lucius fixated on a particular piece of beef that seemed to be eluding his fork. This was what they needed to stop avoiding, she realized. This wasn’t a diplomatic negotiation. This was a clan meeting. A place for honesty.

“We just don't know how I well I will be then,” she said. “But - yes, if I am well enough, I would like to celebrate somehow. What do you think, Solas?”

He was so perfectly still. Like he could disappear if he wanted.

“Of course,” he said, his tone even. Emotionless. “Perhaps we should begin making plans.”

Utensils scraped against plates again. Ashara wouldn’t look up. There was sadness here, now - instead of tension. Was that better? Was it like an infected wound that needed to be drained first?

“What is it that you are interested in studying and presenting to the Magisters, Lucius?” Solas asked after a pause. It was a gentler voice than he’d used with the human since he arrived.

“Lightning runes and their applications. I think there are many exciting possibilities there.”

“There are indeed many applications that have been lost to time. I am sure you can rediscover some of them.”

Well, it was better than usual.

They made it through dessert, though she couldn’t eat a bite of the delicious Orlesian treats. She didn’t bother suggesting that they all retire somewhere else to continue the evening. She had to drop the facade now. They said their good nights, but Ashara lingered.

“I was going to do my hair tonight - would you like to help? If you feel well enough, that is.”

“Of course.”

“I will leave you to that, then - if you don’t have any need of me,” Solas said. His eyes searched her the way they did often now. A healer’s eyes, and not a lover’s. When he found nothing amiss, the attack having run its course, he took his leave, and she went with their daughter back to her quarters.

Washing and treating their hair with creams and oils was a ritual mother and daughter had shared since Ashara was young. They had a rhythm together: passing jars and combs and towels, all more or less without words. It was only at the end, watching Ashara pull her hair high up onto her head to keep it safe while she slept and  reaching for the small silk scarf she used for the same reason, that Ellana felt the need to speak. Who knew how many quiet moments like this they had left? There were things she wanted to know - things she needed to share.

“I have to ask - how serious are things with Lucius?” Ellana said.

“Mamae.” Ashara said it with a whining note in her voice that made her sound sixteen again, and Ellana couldn’t help but smile. Here was the normalcy she’d been seeking for days.

“Oh, hush. I don't believe for an instant that you two were late because of a walk. What contraceptive did you use?”

Ashara’s eyes went wide. Hm. She was more shocked than Ellana thought she would be.

“Nothing, because nothing happened!”

Ellana’s smile turned coy.

“Nothing that required a contraceptive, you mean.”

“Mamae!”

“What? You think I don't know these things? Where do you think you came from - holding hands?”

“We’re not discussing this!”

Ashara was bustling away, tidying up jars that had already been tidied, readjusting the scarf on her head.

“I’m not asking for details! I just want to know that you are safe, and that he treats you well.”

“Yes. And yes.”

Ashara was thoroughly red in the face now. She sat back in the chair she’d used earlier and wrapped her arms around her knees. When she spoke, it was in a small voice.

“I do really care for him. And I think he cares for me. We just haven't talked about it much with - everything.”

Ellana hummed. “Your father and I went it months without ever really saying what we were to each other - I wouldn't suggest it. You should talk to him, before he goes back to Tevinter.”

Ashara nodded slowly, then spoke again.

“Papae hates him.”

“Your father is being protective. Irritating, but protective. He’ll always do this, I suspect no matter who you bring home. You'll just have to ignore him.” She knelt down before Ashara, wincing at her bad knee - really? On top of everything else? - so she could see her eyes.

“Do you like him, Mamae?” Ashara asked.

“He makes you smile. That is enough for me, for right now.” Shit, her knee really was bad today. She should stand. But there was something else she needed to say now, as her mind leapt forward through years she would not see - something she needed Ashara to know. She rested her hand on top of her daughter’s. “I want you to know- whoever you fall in love with, as long as they make you a better, happier person - I want you to know that I would love them too. Even if I never meet them.”

“Mamae -”

Ashara’s hand seized Ellana’s and held it tight. She did not lift her gaze from where it was pointed at the floor. Her breath rattled when she drew it in. Ellana returned the pressure, holding back her own tears. For a while they stayed there, knee be damned, exhaustion be damned. This was what they needed. Naming the unnamed. The things that would not be. The slow unraveling of the grief both she and her father were keeping spooled up tight within.

“Do you want to stay a while? We could play cards like we used to,” Ellana managed, keeping the unsteady edge out of the words.

Ashara shook her head. “I’m tired.”

“Very well. On nydhe, ma’lath.”

She extended her arms as Ashara stood and her daughter accepted the invitation, held her tight, then left.

Ellana was already in bed and half-asleep by the time Solas returned. A quick look outside told her that it was already well and truly night-time, more than an hour since Ashara left her.

“Where were you?” She asked blearily.

“I had some letters to write. Did you and Ashara have a pleasant evening?”

“More pleasant than our dinner, yes.”

There was enough acid in her tone for him to catch on to her irritation, though of course he didn’t give a sign that he had. Instead he went about his own nighttime routines.

“We talked a little about Lucius. She thinks you hate him, you know,” Ellana said.

“That is not the case.”

“Don't be an ass. You know how your behavior looks. I asked you to at least _try_ tonight.”

“He’ll be gone soon.”

Just as at dinner, there was no point in trying to evade the question any longer.

“And what if he isn't? What if he remains in her life and yours? And even if this is just some infatuation, someday she will find someone she loves. And you will be the only parent she has to bring someone home to. The only family she has. You need to learn how to let the people she cares about in.”

And just like at dinner, he went unnaturally still as he listened. Still trying to disappear.

“Do not say these things.” His voice was soft.

“It is the _truth_ , whether you like it or not.” Her lowered her own voice. “I’m not going to get better, Solas. We need to start having these conversations.”

He remained still at the foot of the bed. Just looking at her. No healer’s eyes anymore. Lover’s eyes. Already full of loss.

“Come to bed, vhenan,” she said at last.

She watched as he moved to his side of the bed, waiting for him to slide in close and kiss her, half-hoping it might lead further, to a soft and gentle joining, a reminder to enjoy what they could while they could. But he only leaned in to kiss her cheek before settling onto his back and folding his hands over his stomach, proper as if they were in separate bedrolls once more.

“Solas,” she called quietly. “Please -”

He reached out and took her hand.

It would get better, she told herself as she started to drift back into sleep, lulled by the little circles his thumb drew on her skin. It would get - easier, saying these words that felt like knives leaving her mouth. He would understand in time.

*

Lucius went straight back to his room after dinner, sat on his bed, and began recounting the day in an attempt to soothe his rattled nerves.

A quiet morning, a short training session with Ashara spent practicing glyphs.

Ravens came and went. Nothing for him.

He heard from Ashara that her mother wanted all of them to sit down to dinner together that evening.

He worried fruitlessly about what to talk about at said dinner.

He found a book on Elvhen, stumbled over four words, and put it back.

Ashara came by his room later in the afternoon, and for a while they sat and talked about their favorite foods, and when she withdrew into herself, chasing thoughts he could guess too easily, he started a playful argument over whether human cuisine was better than Elvhen or not, until she threw a pillow at him for daring to suggest that Fereldan beer might even be better than Dalish summer wine.

They went for a walk around the battlements, hand in hand, shoulders brushing, and he realized that all of it was better just because she was there, from the sun to the birds to the smell of far-off snow, and their walk ended back in his room, mouths crushed together, bodies pressed tight, her tunic already half off - until she drew back and gasped -

“Dinner.”

And walking in to dinner with his blood still buzzing with the memory of the way Ash’s breath caught in her throat when his hand slid across her stomach wasn't the worst part.

The worst part wasn't even Solas’s cold blue eyes, his way of asking questions pointed as arrows, of looking at him like he was an insect pinned to a board.

It was Ellana. Seated at the head of the table, trying in vain to make everyone enjoy themselves, her hand tight on her fork, her words spoken from behind gritted teeth.

It was Ashara, her eyes no longer bright with the force of her spirit.

He hadn't been in his room long - maybe an hour or so - when the knock came. The sun had gone down but the world outside was still soft with twilight. The door opened and it was Ashara, brushing past him, smelling of dawn lotus and felandaris, her beautiful curls piled high on her head -

Ashara, with her pack and her staff and her footwraps already on.

“I’m going to Oruvun,” she said.

“What?”

“Oruvun. In Enasan. The place I saw in my dream. I’m going to find the ritual my father spoke of. The one that might be able to remove the magic from her blood.”

His stomach sank.

“But your mother -”

“I can't do this. I can't just watch her die. I can't think about my birthday and not know if she’ll be there or see Papae alone when it should be their first anniversary or listen to her talk about all the things she won't see or watch her get weaker and weaker - I can't, I won't -”

“Ash.” He took both her hands. “Amata, you need to take a breath and think about this.”

 _Amata_. The endearment slipped out unintentionally. He wondered if she knew what it meant. Probably not. Even if she did, there were a hundred other thoughts racing through her mind. She managed a breath at last.

“I’m going,” she said. Firmly. Quietly.

Venhedis.

“What will you tell your parents?”

“I won't. Papae will probably lock me in my room if I tell him. They’ll understand when I come back with a solution and everything is fine.”

“This isn’t a good idea.”

“And letting her die is?”

What would he give to see his brother again? His parents? What wouldn’t he dare for their sake?

“You’ll be gone for weeks,” he said, though even he could hear the lack of conviction in his tone. “What if something happens to your mother while you're gone?”

“It won't take weeks,” she countered.

“How?”

He still held both her hands. She tightened her grip.

“If you come with me - there's a secret I need you to keep.”

That was how all of this started, wasn’t it? With secrets? With different names, sidelong glances, suspicious questions? And now here they stood, hundreds of miles away from that first meeting, and she wasn’t trying to use a secret to keep them apart, and neither was he - she was offering him her trust in outstretched palms. And he didn’t even hesitate to take it. He knew he would not break it now.

“Very well.”

She hesitated nonetheless.

“You don't have to do this,” she said. “You don’t have to come with me. I just wanted someone to know where I went.”

“I can't let you go on your own.”

He didn’t say the other part. That for the first time in years, he didn’t feel alone. That he could never let her feel that. Maybe she saw it, though, because she studied his face for a long moment. Then nodded.

“Gather your things and meet me near the entrance to the lower part of the keep. I’ll tell Claudia.”

He arrived at the door to the lower parts of the keep first, and kept looking around nervously, though it was fairly deserted as the hour grew later. When Ashara arrived, it was with Claudia at her side, also dressed for travel, and with eyes full of anger.

“I want you to know one last time that this is a terrible idea, that I’m angry you won't see reason, and I’m only coming to prevent either of you from getting hurt,” Claudia said as Ashara led them deeper into the keep to the door they’d passed before - the one that hummed with magical energy.

“Noted,” Ashara said. “There are many wards here. It will take me a little to undo them.”

Lucius wanted terribly to ask what was on the other side of the door, what the secret was, if Claudia would share it too, but she was focused, delicate, precise, as she took the layers down one by one, pausing only when she'd removed enough that she could pick the lock.

“You don’t even know exactly where you’re going. You just saw the countryside,” Claudia said.

Ashara kept working.

“Didn’t your father point out how suspicious it was that you found this memory so easily?”

Ashara kept working.

“If something happens to you, it will break your mother’s heart.”

She faltered.

“Nothing will happen,” Ashara said.

“You can’t know that.”

“Nothing will happen because I won’t let it. Because there hasn’t been a problem in my life yet that I haven’t found the solution for. My mother’s life won’t be the first.”

Claudia trailed off into a stream of quiet Tevene curses.

“I should just go tell your father,” she said, finally.

“But you won’t, because you want to help her too. Just like you kept trying to help at dinner. This last ward - what is this - this was set to alert the mage who made it when it was removed. A final precaution. How can I...”

“Who set these wards?” Claudia asked.

“My father. Ah!” She pulled carefully on the Veil, slowly, in four points at once, and then quickly opened the door. “Go - it won’t hold - I’m not removing the ward, just relaxing it a little so it doesn’t go off-”

Lucius darted through the opening she left, Claudia on his heels. On the other side of the door stood a massive mirror, twice his height, radiating ancient magic.

“An eluvian?” Claudia breathed out.

“Yes,” Ashara said as she joined them and the door behind them closed.

“Isn't this illegal after the war? To have one anywhere but Enasan?”

“Yes. Which is why you can't tell anyone - not even Dorian, Claudia.” Ashara surveyed the mirror. “It’s inactive. They all have different keys - and if my father intended this only for his use…”

She thought for a minute. Then she pulled a knife from her pack and cut her palm with a hiss, and pressed the bloodied hand to the mirror. It hummed to life and glowed blue, and a soft tinkling sound filled the air. Every hair on Lucius’ neck stood up.

“You don't have to come,” Ashara said one final time, meeting their eyes.

“You don't have to go,” Claudia replied.

Ashara shook her head, turned, and walked through the mirror. Claudia swore, and followed. Lucius hesitated a moment longer, taking in the sight of the shimmering glass - and then stepped through.

*

Solas waited until Ellana was well and truly asleep to rise from their bed and look at her. It was late into the night by that point - well past midnight, if he had to guess by the stars he could see outside the room. She had color in her cheeks, her breathing was deep and even, she hadn't struggled to fall asleep, no sudden attacks woke her - she was stable. As stable as she could be. He wanted to just look at her. Memorize the exact angle of her ear, as if he had not done it a hundred times before. But he had to go now. Before she got worse. While there were others here who could help. Ashara would know what to do in his absence - Claudia would help, too. He’d already set aside the supplies they might need - sleeping draughts, potions to ease the pain, notes on how to track the progress of her condition. He shouldn’t be gone too long. Perhaps two days or so. Oruvun was not far by eluvian. It was better to go now than to wait.

_You will be the only family she has._

He had to go.

Still. One thing remained. An explanation.

There were too many times Solas had lied to Ellana in this room, by omission and otherwise, when they first met. He knew he should sit down at her side, brush his fingertips along her cheek until she woke, and then take her face in his hands and tell her where he was going and why. She would want to know. She deserved to know. He had never forgotten that day so many years ago when her stomach was still heavy with child and her eyes burned with hurt because he did not tell her the truth, because he thought he would protect her.

He looked at her, this woman who had taken his starved heart and his starved body and his starved spirit and used them to build a life he never imagined. He would tell her, yes. But he would give her a few more hours of peace.

He sat at the desk to write the letter, and did not hear her as she stirred until she spoke.

“Come back to sleep,” she said, a sleepy murmur he’d heard so many times before.

“I just need to write something down.”

She sighed. “Come back.”

“Just one more moment, vhenan.”

Another sigh. “Well, I’m going back to sleep.”

He wished there was a word for the sound of her rustling around in the covers, for the way he knew her hair would smell if he buried his nose in it, for twenty years worth of moments where just the sight of her or the sound of her voice still made his old heart feel light. He’d never fully grasped the truth of the word ‘vhenan’ until he said it to her out on that balcony years ago, but now even that seemed inadequate. Yet he had nothing else to offer her when he finished the letter and lay down once more at her side and kissed her forehead, so he whispered the word against her skin over and over, like it was a spell he could wind around her to protect her until he returned.

He waited until he was sure she was asleep again - and then there was one last thing he couldn't resist before going. He cast his magic around the keep, searching for Ashara, looking for the simple reassurance of her presence, just as he would go into her room when she was small just to watch her breathe.

He found nothing in his search.

He searched again. He could feel the presence of the dozens of other people in the keep - but not Ashara’s.

Or Claudia’s.

Or Lucius’.

The wards were gone when he reached the eluvian. Every last one - except for the one that would have alerted him.

No one else in Skyhold was blood of his blood when he brought the mirror there. It was a quick, efficient key at the time. No one else would have been able to open the mirror on either side.

But now the mirror glowed blue, and Ashara was gone, chasing down a path whose end even Solas didn't know, following a dream she shouldn't trust -  
  
Ellana - if he left now, Ellana was alone.  
  
But who knew how long Ashara had been gone - Oruvun wasn't far - and the temple -

The temple.  
  
He had no gods to pray to.

He followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...did you really think I was done with “Hamilton” lyrics?? I am never done with Hamilton lyrics. Let’s all listen to “Best of Wives, Best of Women” and cry together.
> 
> I hope that chapter worked for you all. I rewrote it about three times (more, in the case of some sections), and I think I'm finally ready for what comes next: Oruvun, and answers.
> 
> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/).


	17. Oruvun

It had been a year since Ashara last used the Crossroads. As always, it was disorienting at first, and then liberating - her whole being felt lighter, freer, like the very air was meant for her.

“Slow down,” Claudia reminded her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, for the third time.

She didn't want to slow down. She needed to get to the place seared into her mind as fast as she could. Every moment wasted was a moment closer to the world where her mother wasn't there for birthdays, for anniversaries, for when she fell in love. The feeling had been there all week, and all week she’d tried to subdue it, tried to accept that this was what Mamae wanted.

That ended now. She would ask for forgiveness later. When they returned, all of them whole.

Every time she slowed down for Claudia and Lucius, she wanted to tell them to turn back. This wasn't their family, their legacy, their burden. And this was dangerous. She felt it, deep in her gut. Blood magic was neither good nor bad on its own, but ancient blood magic tied to slavery and vallaslin, and an image of Oruvun, one of the oldest parts of the country they now called Enasan -

She could do this. Because this was her family. Her legacy. Her burden.

_I will not allow this to happen._

_My father shaped the fabric of the world._

_My mother made that fabric whole again._

_I can fix this._

_I will fix this._

This part of the Crossroads wasn't an area she was familiar with. It was rather empty - unsurprising, since it was currently a one-way street from Skyhold towards Enasan. It was only once they reached a node where several mirrors connected that they began to see elves coming and going. Even then, it was fairly empty - it was the middle of the night, after all. There were guards in the area, their backs turned to the path they were using, and they were startled when the three of them passed. They must have been stationed there by her father, to ensure no one discovered where this particular path led.

“What is your business?” One guard asked sharply.

“My father sent me to Oruvun. My mother is not well.”

It worked, probably because it was only half a lie, so her voice remained steady. The guards exchanged a glance.

“He did not send word.”

“My business is too urgent. He did not have time. Please, let us pass. We will tell no one of this path.”

That was enough.

Lucius and Claudia looked around much as they had in Val Chevin, with barely concealed awe.

“Are we in Enasan now?” Lucius asked, picking up on the increased number of mirrors.

“Well - no. This is a place in its own right - neither the Fade nor the waking world. But, if we were to go through any of these mirrors, we would be in various parts of Enasan.”

“How do you know where we’re going?”

“I have used these roads frequently with my parents in their travels. It's just like knowing the streets of Minrathous, or any other city.”

“This is - miraculous. This should be everywhere,” Lucius said.

“Do you really want to live in a world where any nation in Thedas can move their army across hundreds of miles in the matter of an hour?” Claudia asked dryly.

Normally Ashara might have enjoyed joining in the thought experiment. Were they right to insist that all the eluvians remain in Enasan after the war? Should the process of creating them be shared with other nations? It was so time-consuming and delicate that it would take many, many, many years for any nation to have even a handful of them - if the magic would work at all now, with the Veil in place...

But not today. They needed to move. It was evening when they left, only a couple of hours after dinner. They only had until one of her parents found the note she left in her room. Would Papae come after her? It seemed unlikely, not when he was the one who kept Mamae safe and comfortable, but she didn't want to run the risk. She wanted to figure this out and return to them as quickly as possible. So she stayed silent, and led them on at a quick clip.

It did not take long to reach the eluvian she was looking for. Perhaps another hour or so. They encountered a few more elves on their walk and exchanged polite nods. They walked past things Ashara was sure appeared as marvels to her friends but which she had no time to explain. All that mattered was the ceaseless beat in her head:

_I will not allow this to happen._

_My father shaped the fabric of the world._

_My mother made that fabric whole again._

_I can fix this._

_I will fix this._

Every now and then, when Ashara slowed, Lucius drew level with her and looked at her out of the corner with his eye. Wanting to say something. She didn't ask what.

They reached the eluvian they needed at last, and when the magic cleared, Ashara stood on the soil of Enasan for the first time in well over a year, surrounded by buildings with sweeping lines of stone and metal entwined, looking up to a night sky filled with constellations she knew, drawing in a deep breath that carried with it familiar smells and also magic, humming along her skin.

“Kaffas,” Lucius said, turning in a slow circle. “We’re actually here.”

“Have we left the Crossroads? It still feels different here,” Claudia said. “There's so much magic.”

“We’re still close to the eluvian. That's probably what you’re feeling,” Ashara said.

This particular eluvian was in a small town, though it was bigger than the last time she’d been there. Ashara knew it lay close to the landscape she saw in her mind’s eye from the dream, but now she hesitated. She knew exactly where the last image was - but how far into the ancient trees had the elves planned on going? Would it be better to try and get mounts? Would it be hard to get them in the middle of the night?

“Ash, where are you going?” Claudia called out from somewhere behind her. She’d walked away from them without realizing.

“This is the way,” she said.

“Is it far?”

“That's what I was just debating.”

“What will we find when we get there?”

“I don't know. I may need to enter the Fade and see if I can find more memories to guide us…”

“Then why not sleep here?” Lucius asked. “It’s late. We should rest. You could start searching for memories here.”

_I can't._

_Not yet._

_It isn’t fixed yet._

“I would rather do it closer to the location I saw, if I need to do it at all - these memories are old, and can be difficult to find.”

“Yet you found one in Skyhold with little trouble,” Claudia said.

She could ignore the sharp edge to Claudia’s words for now. She would find a way to apologize later. There was a way. There was always a way, you just had to look hard enough, long enough…

Ashara practiced a spell her father taught her as she went, speeding her step subtly, continuously drawing on the Fade so she would not tire. It felt easier to do so than it had in the past months - since she left Enasan.

“The Veil feels - different here,” Lucius said at one point. “It’s - I can't put my finger on it. Do you know what it is?”

“Some people have said it feels different, but I think it's just the presence of ancient Elvhen magic making it seem different,” Ashara said. The standard answer, the one she’d grown up hearing.

It did feel different though, Ashara realized as they continued. She’d left Enasan many times in her life before, but never for so long. Now that she was back, she knew what Lucius meant. It was as if the Veil was a quilt, and this section was made of a different kind of cloth. Not weaker or stronger - just different. How had she never felt it before?

_A mystery for later. For after. When Mamae is safe._

They stopped to rest briefly once they were deep into the forest. Claudia and Lucius looked exhausted. Guilt pricked her. The Crossroads were more difficult for humans, and they probably weren’t using the same trick that she was to prevent themselves from tiring. She looked to what she could see of the sky through the trees - it was certainly the middle of the night by now. They still had hours to dawn.

“Rest,” she said. “I’ll keep watch.”

They bedded down as best they could and Ashara sat beside them, evening out her breath, letting the fire in her blood cool a little. Yes, they had time to rest. Rest was good. Rest gave her time to assure herself that this wasn't rash. That this was right. To draw on the Fade and feel its power pool into her, making her strong. It felt good to be back in Enasan. More settling than she thought it would be, even if they were in the wilds right now. Eventually she rose to draw nearer to a tree, just to feel it, to touch the arbor blessing that twined around it, to know that she was home.

Her senses prickled with the awareness of being watched and she turned, prepared to pull up a barrier - there were surely wild creatures here - but it was Lucius, sitting up, watching her with a strange look on his face.

“What?” She called back softly to him.

“Nothing really. I forget, sometimes. We’re not the same. You’re not - human. It's not a bad thing,” he rushed to add. “It’s just watching you in the Crossroads. The way you moved. And now, here, the way you were using your magic. You just - belong.”

Ashara felt heat rise in her face. It didn't feel like a compliment. She opened her mouth to say as much but he was already speaking again.

“I’m sorry. That came out all wrong. I’m just trying to say that you’re beautiful, is all. In ways I don't have words for, apparently.”

Ashara sometimes tried to imagine a world where her mother gave up on her father. Tried to imagine the feeling that she carried inside her through those years that prevented her from doing so. Was it this softening she felt in her chest now, breaking through even the worry and fear and need to keep going, making her want only to sink down beside him and take his face in her hands?

“Rest a while longer, ma’lath,” she said, testing the way the words felt on her tongue, how it felt to say them. “I don't think we have much further to go.”

It was still very dark when Ashara woke them both and pushed aside their insistence that she sleep, too. She was by no means as good as her father at this particular trick, and could feel the dullness of exhaustion just now creeping into her limbs, but she could push it away a little longer. She just needed to _know_ what this next step was. That was probably what made her feel so anxious as she walked, like something was crawling underneath her skin.

“Does anyone else feel that?” Claudia asked as they began their journey again. “Fear spells. No - a single one. Large. Low-level. Someone wants us to feel uneasy. Someone wants us to turn back.”

“That means there’s something worth guarding in this direction,” Ashara said. “Do you think you can get rid of the effects, Claudia?”

“We all can, now that we know what it is. Just keep nullifying the area around you if it gets to be too much. It would take too much energy for us to get rid of it entirely.”

True to Claudia’s prediction, the anxiety faded once Ashara followed her advice, and she could once again focus on their journey. The land sloped upwards as they walked, and when they reached the crest Ashara instantly recognized the landscape before her: the way the land curved downward and then up again, the thin, ancient path that led into a darker, denser part of the forest.

“This was where the memory ended,” she said. “I don't know what lies in there - but it must be something to do with the ritual.”

She connected with her mana and directed her senses towards the forest, and felt Claudia and Lucius doing the same thing near her. At once she felt the powerful aura emanating from within the forest. Whatever was there, it was close.

“Last chance to turn around,” Claudia said.

Ashara began walking down the hill.

They didn't have to go far into the trees to see it - glimpses of large stone structures. A building, statues of owls -

“A temple?” Ashara said. “To Falon’Din?”

“Who?” Lucius asked.

“One of the Evanuris. The Dalish considered him to be a guardian of the dead, though of course that’s not the whole story. How have I never heard of this place? It can't have gone undiscovered - unless the fear spells were that old. And if they weren't, who found it first?”

“What could be here that could help?” Lucius asked.

“All kinds of things. Veilfire runes containing the information we need, books, murals, artifacts…”

“And what’s in there that could hurt us?” Claudia joined in.

“Ancient magic. I doubt there are sentinels - if there were, my father would have found them years ago.” That gave her pause. “Maybe he has been here. It seems likely. But why never mention it? The Temple of Mythal is a known landmark in Enasan. People visit it. And he’s spoken to me of the Temple of Dirthamen in Orlais. Why not this place?”

She worked the thought through in her mind for a moment, but couldn’t find a reason. She could ask him later, after everything else.

“Well - only one way to find out,” she said at last.

The temple opened into a wide, tall room filled with columns. Not unlike the Temple of Mythal, in that respect - except that the walls between the columns were oddly textured. She did a double-take.

“Are those all skulls?” Lucius asked, his voice quiet with fear.

“There's necromantic energy here,” Claudia said at once. “A lot of it. I’ve never felt so much before.”

“Is it dangerous?” Ashara asked.

“It feels dormant. It's like someone prepared to raise a large number of spirits and then halted the casting. Unless someone completes it, they should stay the way they are.”

A chill settled over Ashara. “Friend to the dead, indeed. Let’s keep looking for some sign.”

There was another large door at the other end of the room that opened with a simple spell, revealing a second, smaller chamber. It had several pedestals in it, though nothing was on them. Overall it felt strangely bare - and clean, for a place that must have been abandoned for centuries beyond counting. Someone must have been there more recently. Another thought for another time - this was no entryway, and it might contain some clues. There were two other doors at the top of a staircase on the other side of the room, but those they could attend to later.

“Let’s search the walls for runes,” Ashara said. “They can be hard to spot - we should each take a section.”

They went slowly, carefully, block by block, but eventually they were all in the center of the room again, with nothing to show for their pains.

“Should you try and enter the Fade and search for memories?” Claudia asked.

Ashara was half-tempted to say yes, only because she was so much more tired than before they entered the temple. She shook her head to clear the fog of the exhaustion.

“Not yet. Let’s check the two doors on the upper level.”

But even before they were at the top of the staircase, Ashara could feel the wards surrounding both doors. Powerful, ancient wards that she didn’t know.

“Do either of you recognize these?” She asked, off-handedly.

“No,” Lucius said.

“No harm in trying, I guess. I’ll work on this one,” she said.

She tried everything she knew, growing more frustrated as she worked. She was getting truly tired now. Bone-deep tired. It must have been nearing dawn, or even past it, and she had not slept. The adrenaline was wearing away. She needed to relax, to close her eyes. Let the solution come to her. Perhaps just dream -

And once she did relax, once she did clear her mind, she felt her hands begin to move through the gestures of a spell she did not recognize. One that immediately connected with the ward and pulled it away as easily as if it was a thin curtain over a window.

 _I should call for Claudia and Lucius_ , she thought. But her lips didn't move.

The door opened on a somewhat familiar sight - a petitioner’s path, like those at the temple of Mythal. She’d walked those before with her parents. She would need to figure out the pattern for this one -

But she was already walking, feet already moving, as if she already knew.

 _Wait_.

But her lips didn't move this time, either.

 _Wait_.

The panels were lighting up, glowing blue, but her sight was growing dim.

_What's happening?_

She felt her heart beat faster, her throat close up. This was a nightmare - a demon - she’d fallen asleep working on the ward and this was the Fade and she just needed to ground herself in reality once more, as her father taught her -

_I am Ashara Lavellan._

She was still walking the path.

_This is not happening._

Another panel lit up.

_This is the Fade, and I am in control. I can stop this and wake if I want._

Only one more panel - she could wake up - she could stop - she could -

_I am Ashara Lavell -_

_I am Ashara -_

_I am -_

_I -_

_I -_

*

The guards in the Crossroads knew at once when they saw Solas that something was very wrong.

“Tarlen - we were not expecting you. Your daughter -” the one in charge said immediately.

“How long ago did she pass?”

“Hours, tarlen.”

_Fenedhis._

“Was she alone?”

“Two human mages went with her, tarlen.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“No, tarlen. Just that she was on urgent business for you and for your mate, and that you had not had time to send word.”

“Let no one else pass, under any circumstances.”

Ellana was surely too weak to follow, and surely she knew that - but it was not only from him that Ashara had inherited her unbending will.

“Yes, tarlen.”

Oruvun. It had to be. That was where her dream pointed. It was not far. If it had been hours since they saw her - she could be there already. Perhaps even in the temple itself - a place of ancient magic, of secrets. What if she tried to dream there, and a spirit like the one who’d dogged her steps across Thedas found her? What if there were traps that his agents had been unable to detect or disable? What if - ?

He should have told her. He should have simply told her what was in Oruvun. He didn’t need to tell her about the orb, the secret that he and Ellana kept close to their chests, the pact made one afternoon looking down at that tiny sleeping baby who was now grown - the daughter who would see past the fear spells his agents had laid, who would not fear the wildlife that kept the local populace away.

_“Let’s do it slowly. The Veil. It may not be in time for me. But for her…”_

And they had done it slowly. So slowly there was barely any difference even now, twenty years later. So maybe it was possible that nothing truly dangerous awaited her in the temple.

Right?

Wasn’t his rush the rush of a father who stayed one step behind her for months after she learned to walk, who was always been convinced that she would fall, whose greatest sin was always that he was too protective?

It was nearing dawn when Solas reached the temple. It was exactly as he’d left it so many years before, after Ashara’s birth, when he’d gone back to finish his investigation. Except, of course, for the two human voices he could hear shouting further in. Claudia and Lucius, standing in the second chamber, next to one of the doors he himself hadn’t been able to open years before.

“Are you sure she went through?” Claudia said.

“She must have. Where else would she be?” Lucius replied, dispelling as hard as he could. His face shone with sweat. So did Claudia’s.

“But why didn’t she say something? Why close it behind her? It has to have been half an hour - why can’t we hear her?”

“Fasta vass, I don’t _know_ Claudia! Help me!”

“She’s gone through?” Solas said. He deflected the startled spells they flung his way all too easily. Both of their jaws slackened in shock.

“Thank the Maker,” Claudia said when she recovered. “I told her this was a terrible idea. I told her we shouldn’t come. You have to figure out a way to open this door - she was trying to open it before and we were trying to open that one over there and she must have gotten through when we weren’t looking -”

“Step aside,” Solas said. Both humans complied as quickly as they could. He hadn’t been able to open the door before, but he’d been tired then, eager to return to his partner and his newborn daughter. Now there was no choice but to open it.

For an instant he believed it really was his magic that opened the door, that pure fear had lit up his mana and found all the cracks in the ward and pulled it loose. The illusion didn’t last long. He was still pulsing with power, and there was no connection between himself and the foreign spell. It was unwinding of its own accord. Or under the will of someone on the other side.

They stepped back for the door to open, and it was Ashara who came through, and his heart was light. _My daughter my child you’re safe -_

But her eyes were not the blue he knew from the moment she was born. They glimmered like ice, filled with a power he knew too well.

“Fen’Harel. It has been some time, old friend,” she said in a voice that was and was not her own, filled with foreign resonance. A voice that was hers, and Falon’Din’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> I am going to hell for this cliffhanger. 
> 
> Once again, if any of the references to the events in “Body of Knowledge” don’t make sense, I am happy to explain - though I’d imagine Falon’Din has some explaining of his own to do in the next chapter.
> 
> Prompts, suggestions, comments and general discussion more than welcome here or on my [Tumblr](https://buttsonthebeach.tumblr.com/)!


	18. Present and Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be the first to admit that I am not amazing at DA lore and meta and so on, so this chapter was easily the most nerve-wracking for me to write so far. I’m sure I’ve gotten things wrong about Falon’Din, the Evanuris and their imprisonment, the Veil, magic, etc. that the community agrees on. Let’s all just squint past anything I may have screwed up…
> 
> Huge thank you to Kinako, who gave this a read and gave me some very helpful feedback. And to those of you who guessed the spirit’s identity before the last chapter (valyrias and WitchWarren have fessed up!) - I hope you enjoy the ride you've been waiting for :)
> 
> Canon-typical violence in this chapter, by the way, but nothing gruesome.

Solas would never forget the day he thought he’d lost Ashara in the Fereldan foothills. He’d felt a father’s fear before - when she had a fever that wouldn’t go down, when he thought about the possibility of her mortality in this Veiled world - but until that day, he’d never felt the full weight of his responsibility to her coupled with that fear.

_If I’d only watched her more closely, listened for her, kept her at my side…_

When he saw her sitting by the stream, rearranging rocks, choosing the smoothest ones to pile up on the shore, his heart stopped. For an instant, there was only joy. _She’s here, she’s safe_. Then the terror set back in.

_I almost lost her. And it would have been all my fault._

He was not often given to tears, but he’d cried then. Cried and shouted until his head hurt. She’d done many other things since then that worried him but nothing had ever quite matched that terror and anger.

It paled to what he felt now.

Because he also remembered Falon’Din, standing in another temple that bore his name, on the bodies of slaughtered slaves, a thousand years of war already behind him, a hundred battles already lost, smiling, and refusing to surrender. Because he remembered Falon’Din still smiling even when he was bloodied on that temple floor, because he knew any surrender was temporary.

Because he’d watched Falon’Din kill a slave for coughing while he spoke.

Because Falon’Din had his daughter.

“Let her go,” Solas said.

“Gladly.” She rolled her shoulders, flexed her fingers - no, _he_ was doing those things. Falon’Din. He was acclimating himself to this physical form - to his daughter’s body. “She is a candle. You are a bonfire. I would much rather walk this cursed land in your form. So open yourself to me, and I will let her go.”

And if Solas did that, he would be giving the most bloodthirsty of the Evanuris the body of a fully-fledged Dreamer, a powerful mage - his knowledge of the Veil, of the artifacts currently present in Thedas that could destroy it - he needed to think, to delay -

“How? How did this happen?”

“Don’t be obtuse, Solas. You are the one who came here so many years ago and took my orb. You may have changed its function, but you knew what unlocking it would do.”

He did know. He did know that changing the nature of the Veil in Enasan would have consequences. He knew that using Falon’Din’s orb might eventually draw forth his spirit from beyond the Veil. But he should not have been able to pierce through entirely, not until the Veil itself was gone, and that was decades in the future...

“Not so quickly. I thought I had time.”

“It was only a little piece of me that slipped through, true. But I lurked low and grew stronger, and waited. I almost thought there were no Dreamers left, until I heard your daughter’s call. You, a father? It’s been - enlightening, to sift through her memories of you, and your poor doomed mate. I must say I’m not surprised that you bred with a slave.”

Solas lashed out quickly, reaching for the aura surrounding the other mage, finding the part that was Falon’Din (which meant there was a part that was still Ashara, which meant there was hope) and pulled - Falon’Din had to be weak, newly awakened in a new form - but Solas was repelled at once, his head ringing. It physically knocked him back, almost to the edge of the stairs.

“What’s happening?” Lucius said then. “Who is this?”

Of course. They didn't speak Elvhen. They might not even know who Falon’Din was.

“It sounds like the spirit that -” Claudia broke off.

Falon’Din shook himself - herself - _that's my daughter he has her I need to get her back_ \- and then with a flick of the wrist flung a wall of fire at both humans. They were quick with their dispels and barriers, skipping backwards in time, out of the reach of the flames. Staves were raised, energy crackled - and then both hesitated.

“You see that there's no point fighting, then,” Falon’Din said in Trade. Was he hearing less of Ashara in the dual-toned voice now? Did that mean anything? Falon’Din flicked his wrist again, sending out another scattering of sparks. “She’s not bad, your whelp. If you see reason and give me what I want, she may yet grow to see her full potential. I’ve already shared with her the ritual you sought to save her mother. Let me take you instead, and they both live.”

“For how long?”

A shrug. “That depends. As you were always so fond of saying - there are considerations.”

Solas tried again to take hold of the part of the person in front of him that was Falon’Din, to yank it free. It did nothing.

“How you must be torturing yourself now. You did try, you know. For what it’s worth, you taught her well. She knew better than to trust me. If she had not been under such stress, so isolated out there in the wide world, so desperate to save her mother from your own magic - I might never have been able to break her.”

Falon’Din’s voice grew unsteady as he went on - and then he doubled in half, body wracked, screamed - and when he looked up the blue glow cleared from his eyes.

“Enchantments,” Ashara said at once, her voice choked. “Artifacts - they make him stronger - without them -”

Ashara screamed again and every nerve inside Solas burned and he rushed forward and caught her, Claudia and Lucius following.

“There’s a well - I don't know what that means but -”

She pointed to the other door - the one they hadn't unlocked, and he felt her claw at the Veil around it, like she could rip the ward apart - he held her tighter, like that could stop the change from coming over her again -

But again her eyes flashed blue and again a wave of magic knocked him loose even as he braced against it - _enchantments, she said there were enchantments, that's why he's so strong_ -

The ward on the other door was falling apart now - a layer of complex spirit magic on top of a simpler elemental barrier - they should be able to get it now -

“Go,” Solas said, pointing to the door. Claudia and Lucius responded at once, but so did Falon’Din, lashing out again with a wall of flame that stopped them in their tracks. Solas countered, Claudia and Lucius had barriers up, but Falon’Din cast again, lightning this time - _Ashara was never good at lightning, and that's the way Falon’Din always cast it, what does that mean?_ It was strong enough to break the barriers the two humans had cast and he saw them both cry out. The Veil was different here, thinner, and everything burned hot and bright and fast as Solas pulled on the Veil to create a small rift, tried to immobilize Falon’Din - no, that was too much too hard he was hurting her - hurting Ashara - that was still her _-_ he dropped the spell. Already, Lucius was hurling frost at the remaining barrier over the door, and Claudia blocked the flames that Falon’Din shot towards them. Not all of them though, not exactly in time, they were well-trained but their opponent was ancient and angry and here on this earth once more because of Solas.

Lucius was through the barrier. They were gone.

“Arrogant quicklings. They won't know what they're doing,” Falon’Din said. The Fade gathered around him - he would step after them - Solas dispelled the energy and then pulled on the frost that was always so close to the surface of his mana and wove it tight around the elf he’d once seen kill slaves because they were easier to maintain as spirits than as living people.

But when he screamed at the cold binding him, it was Ashara’s voice he heard echoing high above the lower rumble of Falon’Din’s.

Solas broke the spell. None of them were even wearing any armor, except for himself - Ashara and her friends left in the same simple traveling clothes as usual, barely any enchantments woven in - _I could kill her I could kill her I could kill her_ -

“You have no love for the humans,” Falon’Din said. He sounded out of breath - he was powerful, yes, but his mana was low now. Solas drew quickly on the Fade, trying to restore his own. Then he felt a sudden disruption, a warning bell he could hear only in his mind - the remaining ward on the eluvian at Skyhold. Someone had gone through the door. Who?

“Even your daughter fears that you hate the humans,” Falon’Din continued. “I can hear it echoing in her mind. Let me kill them, Dread Wolf. Let me kill them and let me take you instead, and your poor whelp won’t be beating against the prison in her own mind like a butterfly in a glass jar. I can crush her and walk away with this body any moment.”

Who went through the eluvian? Ellana? She knew better - no, he needed to listen, Falon’Din said he would just walk away -

“And then there’s nothing to stop me from simply killing you.”

“Would you do it, I wonder? Rend this body asunder, even if her spirit was gone? Could you? One more necessary sacrifice? What memories should I share with her, I wonder, about other sacrifices you’ve made. About the times you sent your precious soldiers out to certain death, telling them they were safe, in pursuit of some greater goal. Of the towns you swallowed into the earth to keep the supplies from enemy hands. What would she think of her father, then?”

Power was gathering around Falon’Din again, a slow and steady hum. Solas dispelled once more but the pull was too strong. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise when he recognized the kind of energy it was.

“You never liked losing,” Solas said, drawing on every ounce of confidence he could. “Certainly not to me. But you’ll lose again today, Falon’Din.”

Falon’Din shrugged - the power around him swelled and then crested.

“As you wish, Solas,” he said. “You of all people should know why they remember me as a friend to the dead.”

_This is my fault_ was the last clear thought Solas allowed himself before the spirits rose, and he cleared his mind for what would come.

*

“Is that - do you think who was speaking was -?”

“An angry Elvhen god? Maybe.”

Hearing the words come out of Claudia’s mouth didn’t make it any more real to Lucius.

It was a good thing they had to move quickly. There was no time to process the alien way Ashara moved. To remember how she tried to kill them with no hesitation. To question whether or not it was still her. He kept seeing Solas’s face. The naked horror. Whatever was happening - if it left him so afraid - what could any of them possibly do? Was it already too late? He would never see Ashara again. They might not even make it out alive -

The door they passed through led to another small chamber lined with skulls and strange mosaics and humming with energy. Four pedestals stood in the middle of the chamber, with artifacts resting on them. An ornate skull inlaid with jewels, an amulet, a ring, and an orb. Beyond that, another door.

“What the fuck do we do?” Claudia said. “I can feel the energy coming from these - spirit magic, necromancy -”

“Ash said there were enchantments and artifacts making him stronger. It has to be these. Let’s destroy them.”

Behind him, Lucius could hear voices. Solas’s, and the two reverberating voices coming from Ash. Then the sound of spells being cast, and then voices once more. He was keeping them busy. They had time to think. To figure this out.

“Shit,” Claudia said suddenly. “Shit, shit, shit - he’s raising them. All of them.”

The skulls. The spirits.

Shit.

He took aim at the ornate skull before him and hit it with as much force magic as he could will through his body, opening himself up as completely to the Fade as he could. It shattered, and the energy in the room hummed a little louder. Outside, the strongest dispel he’d ever felt rippled through the room, so strong it touched his own mana and made his throat go dry. He needed to recover. Soon they would not be alone.

_“No.”_

Claudia’s voice echoed. She stood with both feet planted, her eyes blazing, her staff whirling as she called on the necromantic energy around them - she’d said the spell had been left half-completed - did that mean she could complete it instead?

The spirits poured in from the room beyond - ancient elves, thin like the Dalish but tall like Solas and Ashara, their faces covered in tattoos. Lucius braced himself, whipping up a barrier and already feeling the lightning crackling through his fingertips - and then spirits rushed from behind him to join the fray, throwing themselves against their foes with wordless howls. Lucius started, the lightning fizzling, half-expecting them to attack him too. Then he turned back to Claudia. She stood, shoulders slumped, leaning on her staff.

“I don’t think I can do that again,” she called out, ragged. “Hurry.”

He hurried. Cast cages around enemy spirits so the friendly ones could assault them and then bent his will to destroying the other artifacts. A ring cracked in half under the force of lightning; the gem in an amulet was crushed after Claudia undid the enchantment on it. Outside magic still crackled, and he heard an occasional shout of pain. Was that Solas’s voice? It didn’t matter. The cages were dissipating and he had to hurl fire at the remaining spirits. A spirit rushed in and a spectral knife bit hard into his ribs and he was bleeding. Claudia was standing over the last artifact, the orb, eyes wild with frustration.

“It’s not working on this one,” Claudia said, pausing to kill another enemy spirit with her staff. “What do we do?”

A barrier appeared around the door to the outer room, suddenly, blocking further spirits from entry. Solas, no doubt. Trying to buy them time.

“Think. What kind of enchantment is it?”

“Spirit. It feels like part of a mage’s aura. Like the wards before did - like you have to be someone specific to use it. Shit, shit, shit.”

“We don’t need to use it. Just destroy it. Would that kind of magic disappear if we melted it down?” Lucius asked.

“Maybe. Can we make fire hot enough? Do we have time?”

Spirits pressed to the barrier, shouting in angry Elvhen.

“Do it,” Claudia said. “I’ll try to hold the barrier.”

Lucius thought back to that night in Vyrantium, to the sound of his brother’s skull as it hit the pavement, to the elf as he went up in flames, to the way Ashara looked at him mere hours ago, to the fear that filled him when he saw her with glowing eyes. He let the flame roar through from the Fade, build in his gut, swirl through every vein. He held it there, held it longer than he thought he could stand, held it for so long he feared he might not be able to channel it when he finally let go, so long he feared he would set himself aflame. Claudia was faltering - the barrier was too.

He released the flame.

It poured white-hot down onto the object before him - and it was melting, yes, and the enchantment was dissipating - but there was a core, silver, silverite, maybe? He couldn’t melt silverite. And his mana was getting low now, his head was starting to pound. The barrier fell. Claudia was on her knees. Something was coming through.

It was Ashara, her eyes still glowing blue.

“Ash,” Lucius said, hoarsely. He needed a barrier. He needed a barrier. “Ash, stop this -”

Her step was faltering. Like she was having a hard time walking, or like she was forcing herself to take each step. Her face was curled into a snarl. She raised her staff, and Lucius pulled up a small, desperate barrier, and prayed as she brought it down.

The small silverite core next to him shattered and a wave of power rippled through the room.

“Hurry,” she said. Her eyes still glowed, but her voice dominated the words. “He’s weakened my father. That’s who he wants. You have to drive me back that way. Get me to the -”

She was pointing at the door on the other side of the room, which unlocked at a gesture of her hand. She grit her teeth and clenched her hands and he could hear a scream building in her throat and then he raised his barrier again before she lashed out with a crackling wave of energy that he felt in his bones when the barrier came down. She raised her staff again - and this time the magic dissipated. The glow in her eyes faltered.

“Help me,” she said. “Claudia, get my father.”

Claudia ran one way, and they ran the other, and Lucius hoped.

“Hurry,” Ashara said as they ran. “Hurry. Hurry. You have to make me put my hands in the water. No matter what else happens, make me put my hands in the water.”  
  
Water?

The pool.

They were in a wide room now, a pool on the far side of them, below a massive mosaic of an owl. It resonated with magical energy. With - voices?

Ashara stopped dead in the middle of the room. She wrapped her arms tight around her stomach. A low keen rose in the back of her throat.

“No. Stay with me.” He took her by the elbow, propelling her forward.

Then he was flying through the air, hitting the hard stone ground, gasping for breath, his head ringing. He’d struck the lip of the pool - Ashara was advancing on him, her eyes icy blue once more, magic coiling around her balled fists. He might only have one chance at this.

She lunged - he met her - took hold of her slender wrists - fell - and together their hands hit the water, and the world went white.

*

As he fought against the newly raised spirits, mere moments after Falon'Din taunted him, Solas remembered fighting him once in Elvhenan. An ostensibly friendly match, not long after he became prominent in Mythal’s service, and before Falon’Din so famously attempted to convert all to his own worship. How vivid that memory seemed now - his opponent’s habit of wide, flourishing movements for one spell followed by a quick jab for the next that burnt the ambient energy of the previous spell. How he was vulnerable during those wide flourishing movements. How a Stonefist could shatter an arm at the apex of a swing, how the blade of Solas’s staff could bury itself in-between ribs when his arms went wide -

But he could do none of those things.

He couldn’t harm Ashara.

Who came through the eluvian?

_Not Ellana. Not Ellana. Please not Ellana._

He warded off spirits (slaves, so many long dead slaves; even their rest wasn’t peaceful) with frost and Veil and Stonefist and tried again and again to keep Falon’Din in one place, to prevent him from pursuing Claudia and Lucius. They’d only just left. They needed time. But what could he do if it made him feel like he was being turned inside out every time a spell struck true and he saw her take the blow?

Falon’Din was weakening. Of that he was sure. The eyes flickered back to their usual color now and then. He hesitated in the middle of a spell. The spirits were growing more sluggish. She was breaking through. It made Falon’Din angry. He turned to the door the humans went through and brought the attention of his spirits to that place, so Solas cast a barrier over it.

“I thought I would give you the courtesy of offering you a choice. But if you do not let me in willingly...” Falon’Din said with a shrug and a thinly veiled sneer, raising his staff _(Ashara’s staff, I made it for her, and now it’s aimed at me)_.

Solas felt the surge of magic, knew it was headed for him, knew he had a chance now to strike back harder -

Instead he raised his barriers and held.

Energy of every kind beat against the barrier until it broke, until there was nothing to hide behind, and still he held, arms wrapped tight around himself, the enchantments in the armor dulling some but not all of it. He’d forgotten the rush that came with injury. How as he fell to his knees, as the spells finally abated, as he burned with pain, he felt suddenly, violently alive.

_If I die, he can’t take me. If I die, he’ll just kill Ashara. I have to stand. I have to heal. Now. Now!_

Falon’Din was leaving. Heading into the other room. Solas drew on the Fade, reaching for the soft pulse of healing magic - but he just wanted to close his eyes for a moment -

“Solas, wake up.”

Claudia’s voice.

He’d gone unconscious.

She was waking him up.

“Hurry,” Claudia said. “Ashara took control long enough to tell us where to take her next. You have to come with us and help.”

Claudia helped him to his feet, directing some of her own weak energy towards his wounds until they were both striding up the stairs and through the room past the shattered remnants of artifacts. Good. They’d succeeded. He felt an energy distinctly like Dirthamen’s for a moment, and panic coiled in his belly - what had been here, carrying that signature?

Ashara first.

The next room opened up further than the last, and had taller ceilings, along with a massive mosaic of an owl. Beneath the mosaic lay a wide, circular pool. A well, like the well in Mythal’s temple. He felt its song. And kneeling before it was Lucius, Ashara cradled in his arms, her head bowed back, blood on her temples, still as death. A gulf yawned inside Solas, a grief too deep and wide to speak. _My child._

“She’s breathing,” Lucius said. He was bloodied too. “I made her put her hands in the water. Light flashed. Now she won’t wake.”

Solas must have responded. What he said he didn’t know. Lucius lay Ashara carefully on the stone floor and Solas knelt beside her, running his magic through hers, laying one trembling hand on her forehead, like she was six again and fevered, and he was asking her where it hurt. Everything about her was weak. Her pulse. Her breath. Her mana. She must have realized she might be able to force this shard of Falon’Din into the well. The well was seething - clearly active. Solas rested his hand on the stone lip of the pool and listened for the hum of the voices within, trying to isolate a familiar one. He couldn’t, not perfectly, anyway. Words jumped occasionally that sounded like Ashara, or like Falon’Din - but nothing he could identify for certain.

“Whatever she did - did it work?” Lucius’ voice cracked. Exhaustion and something else.

Solas hesitated. “I cannot say. I will seek her in the Fade.”

It was easy to close his eyes, to reach for the dreaming world. He was so very tired. It was harder, once he was there, to let go. Past and present alike flooded him. Memories of he, Ellana, and Ashara sitting together in their house filled with light; of Ashara with her face twisted into a sneer mere minutes ago; of Falon’Din in another age, smiling cruelly. Calm. He had to will himself to calm, so the Fade would calm. The instant he calmed he would be able to see her, because surely she was just asleep, surely her spirit would be right there -

When the Fade took shape around him, an insubstantial replica of this very temple in better days, he found himself utterly alone. No Ashara. No Falon’Din.

He refused to believe it. He listened harder, blurred out every other sense except for sound. If they weren’t all the way in the well, they had to be somewhere else. So he clawed in the dark for distant echoes, hoping and hoping for a familiar sound. He would find her. He would find her. He would find her.

*

Ellana woke, pleased to find that her body was only aching dully. Maybe it would be a good day. She stretched tentatively, then wrapped the covers back around herself without opening her eyes. Still cold. She rolled over to burrow close to Solas and found the bed empty. Not too unusual. She opened her eyes to see where he was, but the room was empty too.

Now that was strange.

Mornings could be difficult for her. Even if Solas was awake, he was almost always there with an offer of food or water or healing or the comfort of his touch. Perhaps she had just missed him… but the bed was cold, and judging by the pale light coming through the window, it was barely dawn.

She sat up now, reaching for her thick robe. He’d been up the night before, she remembered, but he’d come back to bed. She was sure of it. She fell asleep with him wrapped safely around her, listening as he whispered endearments against her skin. It had calmed her at once, restored the intimacy that had been missing between them in the last few weeks. She’d looked forward to waking beside him and continuing that moment.

She didn’t see the note at first when she rose. She was only going to dress before going downstairs to look for him, but she’d left her footwraps draped over the desk chair. Then she saw it, folded neatly in the center of the desk. A piece of parchment with just one word on the front:

 

_Vhenan_

 

She knew even before she read it. She’d seen him the night before. Coiled tight, hardly speaking, barely touching her when they fell asleep, and then awake at his desk in the middle of the night.

 

_I have gone to Oruvun to pursue the lead Ashara and I spoke of. I know you will be angry when you read this and I deserve that anger. But you deserve better than what you suffer now. Perhaps I will find nothing, and that will be the end of this, but I cannot give up now, for one simple, selfish reason: I love you. I want a thousand years at your side. I will settle for a year, a decade, a single lifetime more, if I can have it._

_I will not be gone long. I have left supplies and instructions in the chest by the bed. You will be in good hands with Claudia and Ashara. I will see you tonight in the Fade, ma’asha, if you will see me._

 

The parchment crumpled in her hand. She was sick with a feeling she didn’t quite have a word for. Anger and guilt and fear in an uneasy mix. She pushed too hard and tried to force him to accept something enormous and awful. But how could he ignore what she asked? And what message did this send Ashara? How would she stop her from going after her father?

Ellana went downstairs and crossed the main hall to the other part of the keep and opened the door to their daughter’s room. The bed was neatly made, and there was no sign of her pack, her staff, or her traveling cloak.

She didn’t need to look for Lucius or Claudia. She knew now. They were gone. All of them.

She was alone. She was at the center of this, the reason all of it was happening, but she was helpless, useless, and whatever happened out there happened in her name, against her will, and there was nothing she could do -

She clenched her hand until her nails bit into her palm.

She was not helpless.

She refused to be helpless.

She gathered what she needed - the leather armor that no longer fit so well - the knives and tools she trained with after losing her arm but so rarely used - the various potions - one or two of the tonics and grenades that sat gathering dust. She swallowed a mouthful of regenerating potion before even heading into the lowest parts of the keep. It was a special brew, one that dulled what little pain there was that morning and also spread energy through her tired limbs. That would keep her going if she sipped from it from time to time. She’d be careful not to take too much. Just enough to keep going.

She was lucky - there were no wards left in place on the eluvian, as scary as that was. There was only one place in Oruvun that she could imagine Solas had gone, one place that might have answers. The temple. Perhaps Ashara was there too. Perhaps not. She would figure it out. She would bring them back.

Ellana caught sight of herself in the eluvian before stepping through it and felt briefly absurd. This was no longer who she was. Deadly and capable. If there was any danger, she’d be too slow to react, too weak to really fight.

She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes and listened to her body the way she had a thousand times before in her life - at the beginning of a hunt, before closing a rift, in that instant before joining with a lover, when she was nine months gone with child and _waiting_ for some sign, when she was willing the magic consuming her to subside. She felt the places that were battered and sore and broken - but she felt the rush of her pulse, too, the memory of open fields and bloody battles and love and new life and resilience still woven into her muscle and bone.

She faced her reflection in the eluvian once more. This was her family, her life. Her death, maybe. She would be a spectator no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone!


	19. The Way Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three day weekend = time for another update! 
> 
> Two warnings with this chapter: first, there is brief torture in this chapter that is more intense than any other violence in this fic, though I still wouldn’t call it graphic. Just stop at the part where Ellana says “You think me a savage?” and skip to where it says “Now!” and you won’t read any of it.
> 
> Second, the section marked with two asterisks (**) begins with the POV character having what is more or less a panic attack. If that would be upsetting for you, you can hit control + F and search for “Light-headed, but not detached” and start reading the scene from there.

Claudia had never been so tired in her life, or so afraid. At least the exhaustion dulled the fear. She knew that panic would be an appropriate response to everything she just witnessed. But there was no energy left for that, now. Now they needed to keep a close eye on Solas and Ashara where they both lay on the stone floor, lost to the Fade.

Hopefully not actually lost. Blessed Andraste, not actually lost.

“What’s happening here?” Lucius asked, breaking the silence. “What is all of this?”

She heard the same mix of emotions in his voice that she felt in her chest. Fear and disbelief. She supposed she should offer comfort. But she needed to make sense of this. To say the words out loud and see the patterns.

“Everything we feared,” she said. “Everything that made people say the Dread Wolf should be executed, the elves kept as slaves. The Veil - this power - this place - these secrets - he’s broken the treaty that ended the war…”

“We still don’t have the whole story,” Lucius said, half-heartedly.

“I know. I’m not saying we kill him in his sleep. Just - this is why people were afraid. I am afraid.”

Lucius seemed to disappear into himself for a minute after that, his eyes turning glassy. Then he spoke again.

“She’ll be fine. She will be.”

Maker, Claudia hoped so. Ashara’s body was battered, it was true, but that wasn’t what frightened her. Would she still be Ashara if she woke? How did it feel to have someone else walking around in your skin? How did you come back from that? Could she come back from that?

She met Lucius’s eyes. That was one truth she couldn’t say to him. One thing to process alone.

“Let me heal you,” she offered instead. “Then you rest, too.”

She did what she could to make him comfortable, then settled in to wait, replaying the scenes of the fight again and again. The blistering heat Lucius summoned to melt down the strange orb. The howling of the spirits. The way Ashara moved, spoke, and cast like someone else. The malice in the ancient words that came from her lips. The terror and power with which Solas fought back. The feeling of so many ancient spirits under her own command. She wished none of it ever happened. She wanted so very much to be at home in Minrathous, in Dorian’s study, listening to him recount his day, with a glass of wine in her hand, and nothing to worry about but whether or not it might rain.

She dozed at one point, and then woke with a start and looked around frantically. Solas and Ashara were in the same places, so still it was eerie. Lucius was curled up nearby, his head pillowed on his cloak. Nothing else had moved in the ancient place. It didn’t reassure her. Something should just - happen. Something that explained all this. Or she should find Ashara and Solas awake, Ashara smiling, already brushing this adventure off, already insisting that it was fine and she knew what to do now. Or she should wake up still in Skyhold, to find none of it happened at all.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed between when she woke and when she heard footsteps in the chamber outside. Claudia stood and lifted her staff anew, prepared to shout -

It was Ellana, armor-clad, her jaw clenched, her eyes wide with worry.

Ellana? How?

“What happened?” Ellana asked in a low, angry voice as she closed the distance between them.

What words were there to describe this? To explain the sight of Ashara possessed, or the fact that now she would not wake?

“I think Solas can explain better,” Claudia said. She looked more closely at the elf before her. Ellana had crossed the room stiffly, even if her steps were quick. Her clenched fist trembled a little, though, and she looked as tired as ever. It had taken her, Lucius, and Ashara hours to reach this forsaken place - and all three of them were young and healthy. “Are you well? Is it safe for you to come so far?”

Ellana waved her hand dismissively and chose a flask from her belt and drank. Then she knelt carefully at her husband’s side and called his name. He didn’t respond at first. Then she gave him a hard shake, and his eyes opened. He started at the sight of her and sat up.

“Vhenan -”

“What happened?” She asked. Then, without turning. “Claudia, wake Ashara and Lucius. We will return to Skyhold as soon as I’ve heard an explanation.”

“We can’t wake Ashara,” Solas said. “The spirit that followed her, that blocked our connection in the Fade - it was Falon’Din. He took possession of her here in the temple.”

Ellana’s eyes went wide and she took in a sharp breath. Claudia felt the same horror run down her spine. In the chaos of battle she’d only caught snatches of what was going on, and much was said in Elvhen. So it was true. It was the same spirit that had followed Ashara from Tevinter. And Falon’Din was the one Ashara named as the owner of the temple before they entered. A Dalish god of the dead. Shouldn’t that have been impossible? Weren’t all the Elvhen gods gone, except for Solas? If he could appear in the flesh again - what about the others?

“And now?” Ellana asked. Her eyes were focused only on Solas. She was unmoving, nearly unblinking. Like a snake coiled to strike. Claudia moved away, to Lucius’s side, and shook him gently. Solas continued speaking.

“She used the well to try and be rid of him. Now, after searching the Fade, I fear they are both trapped - part here and and part in the well.”

“You need to wake her, then,” Ellana said tersely. “We need to finish forcing him into the well and then destroy it.”

Still so focused. Like it wasn’t her daughter lying there on the ground. Claudia had always known Ellana as a warm mother, a kind person with a ready smile. Why wasn’t she distraught? Was that the magic of this temple? Pulling people outside of themselves?

“You assume that I can wake her,” Solas replied, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You can. You will.” There was no hesitation in Ellana’s voice. “If part of each of them is in the well, restore that part. Maybe that will draw back the parts of them that you searched for in the Fade and help her wake. Then you can complete the ritual as it was meant to be completed, forcing away only Falon’Din. Am I right?”

Solas nodded and took a deep breath.

“Theoretically, yes. The issue does seem to be that the spell was not completed correctly. My first instinct was to save the part of her wandering the Fade - but since that has not been successful, we can try it this way. Perhaps I will have better luck isolating the parts of them that are in the well now that I am rested.” Solas’s voice was not quite as steady as his wife’s. Maybe because he’d actually seen what happened. Maybe because what Ellana was describing was not, in fact, as easy as it sounded.

Maybe because there was no way to bring Ashara back.

Lucius was stirring now. He, too, started at the sight of Ellana, but before he could ask why she was there, they told him what they’d decided.

“We’ll have to fight him - Falon’Din - again,” Lucius said. “Could he force Ash’s spirit into this - well - instead while we do?”

“He can try,” Solas said.

“Magebane,” Ellana said, reaching into one of the pouches on her belt. Claudia could smell it at once, and even at a distance, the acrid scent made her skin crawl. “Bind him, and we will give him this. Leave his hands in front, bound at the wrist.”

 _How is she so calm?_ Claudia wondered as they bound Ashara with rope from Solas’s pack so she was sitting against the well, her arms and legs immobilized. Maybe she didn’t know Ellana well enough to see the signs of fear or anger. There was something oddly glassy about her gaze. Then Claudia remembered as she took in the unfamiliar armor. A fact so simple it was easy to forget: before Ellana was Ashara’s mother, she was the Inquisitor. She’d pulled the world back from the brink twice. Maybe this was how she did it - with this steely resolve, with the unshakeable will that drew her all the way from Skyhold, no doubt in pain every step of the way. Maybe this was how she’d survived Celene’s court, the corrupted Wardens - Corypheus. With her mouth in a grim line, her shoulders square, her mind clear. It was frightening to see the transformation - and reassuring. For the first time since they entered the temple, it felt like someone was in control.

A silent signal passed between Ellana and Solas when they were done with the binding, and Solas pulled on the power in the water.

Claudia could feel him sifting through it, and then reaching back, to the faint flutter of Ash’s aura. A bridge began to form, a connection not unlike the one Claudia felt when she connected with the Fade. Then it roared to life and voices poured through, echoing endlessly around the large stone chamber. Claudia could understand none of the words but she could feel the emotions that filled them. Anger and joy and pain and fear and hope - so many feelings that her heart pounded. Were these _people_ , like Ashara herself? Trapped forever? Why? How? Then two voices resounded the loudest through the room, and Solas broke the connection, a snap of magic so sudden it left Claudia’s own mana vibrating - and then Ashara woke with a panicked gasp and flickering eyes.

“Hurry,” Ellana said, uncorking the vial in her hand. Claudia stood ready, her own power gathering, prepared to do whatever was needed. Prepared to strike, if she had to. To close the eyes of her friend forever, if it meant this Falon’Din never walked the earth again.

Ashara shook and strained against the bonds and her connection to the Fade flickered to life, like she would cast, and that was when Solas held her jaw and Ellana tipped the vial of magebane into her mouth. She screamed against her mother’s hand - but her eyes were still flickering. They had to do this. They had to.

“Please,” Lucius said quietly at Claudia’s side. He reached out and then drew his hand back again. “Please, please, please.”

And though he’d said he didn’t believe in the Maker, it sounded like a prayer.

Ashara was still thrashing and coughing. Claudia could feel her friend’s mana drain away and the memory of that hollowed out feeling, that inability to breathe, after the templar attacked her in the veridium mine made her tense. But they had to do this. Ashara’s eyes were still flickering back and forth between the two colors. Then Solas’s magic reached out once more, trying to steady her - to isolate this Falon’Din. At once, something struck - the Veil around them rippled with tension - Solas strained - and Ashara’s eyes glowed a steady, icy blue.

It was Falon’Din once more. Not Ashara.

Solas was still straining, though the flow of his power changed - now it was pushing outward. He was trying to force something back into the well - Falon’Din shut his eyes and grit his teeth and Solas brought more power to bear, grimacing -

“What’s happening?” Ellana said.

“I cannot remove him alone. He is still - holding Ashara. If I complete the spell now, he takes her with him.”

“Then stop.”

Solas’s power waned. Falon’Din spat something in Elvhen without opening his eyes.

“Crush her, and you answer to me,” Ellana said.

Falon’Din’s now open eyes locked on Ellana. When he spoke, it was in Trade.

“Ah. The slave. What would I have to fear from you?”

“Leave my daughter, and you don’t have to find out.”

“My death would be temporary, savage,” he said. He was panting, twisting against the bonds, fighting the burn of the magebane. Ellana took hold of his chin and forced him to look at her.

“If you think I am someone who is impressed by false gods, you are sorely mistaken. Let her go.”

“I will destroy her to spite you,” he said. “And even if you kill her body in revenge, we will find a way through your Veil - my brother will preserve what remains of my spirit in the Void - we are not so easily dispatched -”

“I said nothing about simply killing her body,” Ellana said in a low, steady voice. “I would imagine it has been some time since you experienced all the different kinds of pain a body can feel. If you possess her fully - if you leave yourself with no way back to the Fade or the Void or wherever you’ve been hiding - I will introduce you to every last one of them before I let you die.”

She seized Falon’Din’s bound hands then - Ashara’s hands - and then took hold of one finger.

“You think me a savage? Fine. I’ll show you how savage I can be.”

Then she began snapping the fingers, one by one, bending them backwards, putting her weight behind each motion. Until he was screaming. Until he was writhing. Until his head was tipped back in agony. Until Claudia could see the tears in Ellana’s eyes.

Until the icy blue glow began to fade from Ashara’s.

“Now!” Ellana said.

Claudia felt the Veil ripple and the well’s song grow louder and then there was a sharp tug and a release of energy that knocked them all back, so all she could see was the stone ceiling above, and all she could hear was the thousand voices coming from the well - and then there was silence.

**

There were faces. So many faces, so close to her own.

There was an elven woman with her hand resting on her cheek _(her her her - what’s my name?)_ . Her hand burned with pain and there was an elven man holding it, and magic was running into her at that point of contact. _My fingers - why are they -_

Her mouth burned, too. A foreign, bitter taste filled it, and something about her felt empty. Something was missing. Magic. Her magic was missing.

Then there were two more faces. Another man and a woman, humans. Removing rope from around her ankles and her arms and why had she been tied up? Why was her back against cold hard stone? Why were they leaving her nowhere to run? And everyone was looking at her, everyone was speaking all at once, and there were tears in the eyes of the woman whose hand was on her cheek - and -

_I -_

_I -_

_I am -_

She stood and stumbled away from them, her breath coming short and sharp, so short and sharp it hurt her chest. She needed air, air, air, but she couldn’t make herself slow down - she was going to fall into that dark again - _who am I, where am I, what happened_ \- she knew if she could just slow down her mind she would be able to answer those questions - but everything in her mind was screaming and dark and pain and she couldn’t move her arms or legs -

She fell to her knees, caught herself on the cold stone. Still couldn’t breathe. Her stomach heaved and the back of her mouth burned. She was going to be sick. She was separating from herself again, floating at the top of the ceiling looking down - she was going to be lost again -

“Ashara, da’vhenan, it’s alright. You’re alright. We’re here, fenor.” A woman’s voice. The elven woman. She was kneeling beside her.

_Ashara._

Something inside her rang clear at the word.

_I am Ashara._

Yes. That was right.

_I am Ashara Lavellan._

She took one deep, lung-filling breath.

_I was lost._

She looked at the woman. Not the woman. Her mother. Then she looked around the room. She was in the temple. The temple of -

_He took me._

_He took me and he tried to kill Papae and Claudia and Lucius and he tried to kill me and -_

She threw up. Little came up from her stomach, no matter how violently her body convulsed. Her mouth filled once more with that bitter taste - _magebane?_ \- and it only made her sick again, dry, desperate heaves that brought up nothing. Mamae was right at her side, her hand on her back, speaking softly.

Ashara felt oddly centered afterwards. Light-headed, but not detached. She was back. She was alone in her mind once again. She could flex her fingers. Wipe the sick away from her mouth. Take slow, deep breaths. Sit up and look her mother in the eye. She was safe. She needed to speak. They were all still looking at her. She didn’t know why her mother was here, or how. She should ask.

“Mamae,” she began, but no other words would come. Just a deep, hiccupping sob. Her mother drew her close, so close Ashara was in her lap, and held her so tight it hurt.

“You foolish girl,” Mamae said, her voice quiet and fierce and shaky. “You foolish, foolish, foolish girl. What would I have done without you? Hm? I could not live without you. Gods, Ashara, I would rather die - ”

She couldn’t think beyond the tight circle of her mother’s arms, the unfamiliar press of her armor, the tears that fell from both their eyes. She didn’t want to. She just wanted to be held. She wanted to be home. She never wanted to hear that voice again, to think of the pain of trying to take back her body, of the memories he showed her - the memories that even now felt as real as if they were her own. She never again wanted to feel so weak and foolish.

But eventually she had to uncurl herself and stand with Mamae’s help. She looked back over towards the well to see Lucius and Claudia, standing close together, bloodied and tired but smiling tentatively ( _I watched myself try to kill them_ ). And then Papae, standing beside them, his own face filled with relief ( _the way he looked on the ground when he collapsed, the way he couldn’t bring himself to hurt me_ ). She could barely look at them. But she walked over anyway, to her father first. He took a breath like he would say something, but instead took her mother’s place, and held her tight. When he pulled back he rested his forehead against hers, briefly, like he used to when she was a child. Then he shook his head as if to clear something away.

“Did you succeed?” Mamae asked.

“Yes. At the moment Falon’Din attempted to relinquish control of her and escape, I forced him in. I will need time to destroy this properly,” he said, gesturing to the well. His voice was quiet.

“Do it,” her mother said. She was using her commanding voice, the one Ashara heard so rarely. “We will rest in the entryway. I have mounts waiting for us a small distance away from the temple. Your guards could only be persuaded to let me pass if they let me take someone with me. He proved useful.”

They exited the chamber just as her father’s own eyes glowed blue, as the power coursed through him. Ashara flinched at the sight, and looked away - but looking away meant seeing the other chambers, the places where she’d been screaming inside, clawing inside, trying to break free, trying to stop herself - to stop him. They got to the entryway itself before she trusted her voice again.

“I’m sorry,” Ashara said, standing in the doorway, remembering walking through it so calmly hours before. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Mamae said. “And you’re safe. We’re all safe.”

But she took another sip from a flask at her hip when she said it. A regeneration potion, maybe, from the smell. It wasn’t wise to take them for too long, Ashara knew. She looked to Lucius and Claudia next. They were only here because of her. They could have both been back in Tevinter. They were all here because of her. All hurt now. All in danger.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, looking at each of them in turn.

“We came of our own free will,” Claudia said. She tried to add in a teasing note. “Even me. I do wish you would have just _listened_ to us.”

Ashara met Lucius’ eyes. He opened his mouth - then closed it again. Perhaps he didn’t trust himself, either. Maybe he didn’t trust her. She understood that. She didn’t trust herself.

What if there was no way back from this feeling? Sick and ashamed and afraid?

Ashara’s skin itched while they waited. She scratched at it. How long until she could bathe? Would it even help? Every sound in the forest made her jump. Mamae took her hand and checked each finger carefully, and sighed heavily. Ashara tried not to remember what it felt like when they snapped. Mamae winced and then swayed on her feet.

“Let’s sit,” Mamae said. Even under the ill-fitting armor, Ashara could see the fine tremble running through her mother. It was her fault. Mamae should be resting at home. If she had only listened, and not pursued this any further…

“Are you in pain?” Claudia asked. “Please, let me -”

“It’s fine, Claudia. You’re tired, too.” But Mamae let out the breath she’d been holding and shook in earnest now, curling in on herself.

As Claudia sank down at her mother’s side, Ashara pulled away. _My fault my fault my fault this is all my fault_ \- her breath came fast again - and then Lucius was at her side, arm tight on her waist.

“I’m here,” he said. “It’s okay.”

Claudia’s hands glowed and Mamae’s breaths came more evenly. She still shook.

“I need Solas.”

Lucius ran in without another word.

Ashara knelt and took her mother’s hand in both of hers. She couldn’t shy away from this. Not anymore. She wanted to tell her mother what he (she couldn’t think his name - not yet) had shown her. The ritual. But the moment she thought of it, the panic rose from her stomach again. _I saw him I felt him I_ **_was_ ** _him -_

“Shh,” Mamae managed, squeezing her hand. Had she said something? Made a sound? “You’re safe.”

Papae appeared quickly and as always his magic hooked easily into the energy tormenting her, though he had to work to subdue it. The shaking stopped. He looked haggard.

“The well?” Mamae asked.

“Almost done. Rest. Don’t drink any more of the regenerating potion. You know it’s not safe to take too much.”

Her mother’s eyes grew dark with anger and she sucked in a breath through her nose. Then she shook her head.

“Later,” she said, coldly.

She did rest while they waited. They all did. Each silent, enveloped in their own world. Ashara wanted to sit close to one of them, all of them, to be grounded by their warmth and presence, assured by a hand or arm that this was her body and all was well. But what must they think of her now? Reckless, careless, idiot girl… So she sat still and wrapped her arms around herself and focused on the wind in the trees, the call of distant birds.

When her father returned with news that it was done, they set off slowly, each exhausted in their own way, each keeping the others on the path with a word or a nudge. It wasn’t far to the guard and the mounts Mamae mentioned. Just far enough that he wouldn’t have any idea the temple was near. The guard flushed and lowered his eyes at the sight of her father.

“Tarlen, I am -”

“Peace,” her father said. “I should not have asked you to do something impossible. I know you would have been able to stop anyone else.”

They rode slowly, in silence, until they were almost back to the small town where they began. The sun was well up by that time, but all Ashara wanted to do was sleep.

“We should rest,” her father said. “There’s an inn -”

“No,” her mother said. “We return to Skyhold. People could recognize us here, and question our presence. News would have spread if we had left Skyhold together. We would have had to leave weeks ago.”

“And the Crossroads will be full of people who may likewise recognize us at this time of day. I can turn aside a few unwanted gazes for a short time in a small town. It will be more difficult there.”

Mamae sighed, frustrated.

“Fine.”

They pulled up their hoods and Papae blanketed them with a soft, subtle ward, enough to make them less noticeable until they reached the inn. The guard went ahead with money in hand to rent their rooms. There were enough for each person to have their own. Ashara’s heart pounded at first.

_Alone, alone, me and my thoughts._

_And him._

_No, he’s gone._

_I don’t want to be alone._

But who could she look in the eye right now?

Maybe she was tired enough that it wouldn’t matter. Her feet did drag going up the stairs. Mamae embraced her again when they got to the hallway where their rooms were.

“Do you want to stay with us? It doesn’t matter how many rooms were paid for,” she said. For an instant, Ashara wanted to say yes. She wanted to be a child again, afraid of thunder. But she shook her head. “Very well. We’re right here if you need us, da’vhenan. Just across the hall.” Mamae went into the room. Her father put an arm around Ashara’s shoulders and kissed her forehead.

“Rest. We’ll talk when you’re ready,” he said.

She changed her mind. She wanted to stay with them. Needed to know she was safe. But the words stuck in her throat, and while they did, she saw the look that passed between her parents. Papae hesitated to cross the threshold to their room. Mamae stood there, watching him, anger and hurt naked on her face. There were things unspoken between them. Perhaps she would turn him away, though Ashara couldn’t remember a single time that Mamae had done so. Not that she knew of. He must have seen something that Ashara didn’t, because he went in, and closed the door.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Claudia asked. “I’m just next door.”

Ashara nodded, hoping that response was enough. Claudia nodded back, then disappeared into her room. It was only then that Ashara noticed Lucius was already gone. It bothered her. Knotted her up somewhere inside, beneath the other layers of feeling. Something else to sleep on. But not long after she entered her room, there was a knock at her door. When she opened it, Lucius was on the other side.

“I didn’t know how to say it earlier,” he said. His hands opened and closed at his sides. “Maybe I still don’t know how to say it. But - I’m happy you’re safe. Of course I am. What I mean to say is - the world - _my_ world - would be a darker place without you. I don’t even want to think about it.”

For the first time since she woke, her mind and body broken, Ashara felt something a little like light in her heart, and managed a smile.

“I’d like to - ” He muttered something under his breath, then started again. “Can I kiss you?”

She nodded, and he pulled her carefully against him, like she was made of glass, and pressed his lips to hers, lightly, giving her every chance to pull away. He tasted like sweat, and his moustache prickled against her lips, but he was warm, and solid, and she could lean into him. He ran his hands up and down her back and then pulled away, only to kiss her again, softly, briefly.

“I’ll see you when we wake,” he said, and began to step away.

“Stay,” she said without thinking. Then, quickly, just in case. “Until I fall asleep? Please?”

“Of course.”

She stripped off the unnecessary layers of her clothing after he closed the door. Her skin still itched. She still wanted to strip down all the way and scrub until it was raw. But she was heavy with exhaustion, too. Too tired to protest that Lucius was making himself comfortable on a chair he’d dragged to her bedside, instead of climbing in beside her. But he still took her hand where it lay on the bed, and his thumb ran soothing circles over the back of it, until the soft, constant contact allowed her to drift away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ….whew. We are on the other side. Does anyone else feel like we need fluff and/or smut right now that I have traumatized literally all of our characters? I feel like I need fluff and/or smut right now. (Then again, I have traumatized all of them... so probably not. Let us deal with that first.) Next chapter will be Solavellan-centric as they grapple with everything that happened at the temple.
> 
> Thanks as always for reading! I love hearing what you guys think :) Incidentally, I now have an email address (buttsonthebeach06@gmail.com) where you can write me if that’s your kind of thing. I love talking about all sorts of things with you lovely people.


	20. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No huge warnings this time, but Ashara does remain in an (understandably) bad mental space. She is not the POV character in this chapter, so I don’t think any of it would be particularly triggering, but her reaction at the very end (after Ellana tries repeatedly to get her attention, when they are nearly back at Skyhold) may be upsetting if you are sensitive to such things. You can stop reading there if you need to :)

When Solas entered the room, Ellana was already going through a ritual whose motions he knew. Checking and laying out each weapon and piece of armor. Each motion sharp with fury. She was trying to tamp down her anger. It would break sooner or later.

“There’s a basin over there. It already has water,” she said without turning.

He looked to the other side of the room to see the object in question. Even going there seemed far. Every muscle burned. He had injuries that he had only barely healed. He kept seeing it over and over again. Ashara lying in Lucius’ arms, looking like death. Ashara bound, still speaking in Falon’Din’s voice. The cold determination in Ellana’s words. Those delicate fingers held tight in his mate’s hands. The sound of them breaking. His little girl, wild-eyed and staring and _broken_ when she woke -

“Would you like the water warmed?” He asked. Ellana paused halfway out of her coat. She must have heard the note in his voice. He sounded broken, too.

“If you can,” she said, still not turning.

By the time he came back and placed the basin beside her she was down to her smallclothes, and shaking with the effort. But all her bottles and grenades and knives were laid out perfectly. Her back was still to him, and he could see the magic as it crackled underneath her skin. She was all but limping as she went to get the cloths he’d left where the basin was (how short-sighted of him). He located the flask she’d been drinking from all morning, and shook it. Half-empty. A normal dose for a full day and night - but it had been only a quarter of that time…

“Ellana…” Her name came out more as a sigh than a word.

“What?” She was beside him once more.  
  
“You should not have come,” he said, more to himself than her.

“Why?”

He knew better than to respond. He did. His head was pounding. He just wanted to _sleep_ , and forget. But now he couldn’t let the image in his mind go. Ellana collapsed in the Crossroads, hours before anyone found her, never again hearing her voice or touching her hand or feeling at home in her arms -

“You could have been hurt traveling so far,” he said. His voice sounded detached even to him. It wasn’t how he wanted to sound. He wanted to shout his love and concern at the top of his lungs. “And you should never have taken this much of the regenerating draught. Your body can't process this much.”

“So I shouldn't have come because it was reckless? Because it put me in danger? Because it hurts you to worry about me? And how do you think I felt waking up to see that you were gone?” With each sentence she spoke she dipped the rag back into the basin and wiped another part of herself clean with an jerky gesture.

Solas closed his eyes and breathed in. The world was unsteady around him. Everything out of balance. He wanted to shout but his voice remained low. Falon’Din had walked around in his daughter’s skin. He was happy Ellana was here and he wished Ellana hadn’t come. But if she hadn’t -

_Ashara could have died. My daughter, my only child, my little heart. She could have died._

And he only went so that Ellana would not die.

It was like he kept tightening his fingers and the things he loved were so much sand, slipping through.

She expected a reply. He needed to speak.

“I knew you would be angry -” He began.

“How convenient that my feelings mean nothing to you.” Her voice was rising.

“Vhenan…” What was there to say, though? He couldn’t pull the words out of that tender place inside him. Every part of him was curled up, hiding, ashamed. He wanted only to lie still and drift away to somewhere dark and quiet.

“We shouldn't talk about this now,” Ellana said, her voice quieter now. She still hadn’t quite looked him in the eye since they entered the room. “We’re both tired. We both saw and did things today that…” Her breath shuddered out of her. “I don't want to say things that I don't mean. But I am angry. And hurt. And scared.”

“I am sorry.”

She laughed bleakly. “For which part?”

She went to the bed and he began undressing himself. Perhaps he should go and see Ashara one last time. He’d barely spoken to her. He hadn’t gone to her as Ellana had when she was shaking and crying and sick. He’d stood there frozen with his own grief. If he had never come to that place twenty years before and removed the orb - if he’d never tried to guarantee that she would live forever - Falon’Din would never have had a way through the Veil. She would be at home in Skyhold even now, smiling, teasing, even swanning around the battlements with Lucius (even that would be preferable). She would be whole. Not silent and hollow-eyed.

 _This is my fault_.

“Solas,” Ellana said, separating it carefully into two syllables, the way she only ever said it when they were alone. She was looking, really looking at him now, from her place sitting on the edge of the bed. He, too, was down to his smallclothes. His pale skin was covered in purpling bruises. Things he had not taken the time to heal yet. The ache was a good reminder with each breath.

 _This is my fault_.

“Come here,” she said.

He did as she asked. Her hand ghosted over the places where he was hurt.

“I couldn't hurt her. I let her hurt me instead,” he said.

“Solas.” Again it was broken into two careful syllables, a world of meaning in each. A word in and of itself, not his name anymore but a private signal, something shared only between them. She made a quiet sound, put her hand on his hip, then leaned forward and kissed his chest, right over his heart, resting her face there when she was done. He didn’t deserve the intimacy, and he needed it.

“It wasn't her,” Ellana added finally.

She didn't sound confident. He finished her thought. “And yet it was.”

Her hand grew tight on his hip, nails digging in. She held her breath and then let it out slowly.

“Drink some of the potion before you come to bed,” she said.

He nodded his assent and went back to the end table. She was lying down by the time he returned, the potion spreading fingers of warmth through his body. He stayed to his side of the bed, offering her space if she still needed it. The covers rustled and she was wrapped around him at once, a leg thrown over his hips and an arm over his chest, her lips against his ear.

“I said it to Ashara and I’ll say it to you. I can't - won't - live without you. I would rather die, you stupid, stubborn fool. Do you hear me? If anything had happened to you…”

Solas held tight to her wrist and squeezed his eyes shut and wished he could disappear into her, lost and yet at home, safe from the words rattling around in his mind.

_I may still have to live without you._

“Sleep, sa’lath,” Ellana said at last. “I have you.”

His mind still rattled, his muscles still tensed even as he drifted off, he still woke on and off to the remembered sound of Ashara screaming - but Ellana was there, right at his side, unwavering, arm tight around him, ready to whisper quiet words of comfort in his ear.

*

When Solas woke, for good, Ellana was already up. She had a flask in her hand again.

“Water,” she said. Then, handing it to him. “Drink.”

The water was lukewarm and he cooled it with a thought. His mana was fully restored, and shifting to hand her the flask confirmed that his injuries were mostly healed. The pounding in his head was gone. He was nearly back to normal.

Except for the way his thoughts circled back over and over again to Ashara in pain, Ashara wide-eyed with terror, Ashara who would need to find a new normal now -

“How long was I asleep?” He asked.

“A few hours. It’s nearly night.”

“Have you been to check on Ashara?”

“Not yet. I was about to go when I saw you stir.”

“I’ll come with you.”

When they entered the room, Ashara was still sound asleep, curled up neatly, the covers pulled up to her chin, the way she’d slept since she was small enough that she still stayed in their bed. Her face was relaxed. She might have been at home on a cold winter morning, and he might have been stopping by to look in out of fondness alone.

The only thing that made the tableau different was that one hand hung off the side of the bed - the side where Lucius sat, still clothed, in a chair, his own hand dangling in the space between them. He was already blinking groggily when Solas noticed him, and started into full awareness before either he or Ellana could speak.

“Sorry - she asked me to stay - I was in the chair the whole night.” He was already on his feet. Just as he had reacted so quickly in the temple itself. Ellana began to speak, but Solas got there first. Lucius did not deserve this immediate discomfort. This fear at the mere sight of them.

Then again, maybe Solas was someone to fear after all. What memories had Falon’Din shown Ashara? What would she think of her father when she woke?

“It’s fine, Master Talvas,” Solas said. “I am happy you were able to comfort her.”

Lucius blinked slowly.

“Oh. Well. I’ll let you wake her, if you want. I’ll just be - in my room.” He made a short bow, and exited quietly, closing the door behind him.

Ellana had a half-smile on her face, watching him go. Then she approached the bed and sat in the space created by the curve of Ashara’s body. She took the hand that extended past the covers.

“Ashara,” she said in the singsong lilt she’d used since she was kneeling by a cradle and not sitting on the edge of a bed. Ashara stirred a little, wrinkling her nose. Ellana stayed there, holding her hand, until her eyes opened. Blue like his own. Round like her mother’s. Their Ashara. For one beautiful moment, there was no trace of the terror from before. Then she took in her surroundings, her parents in their unfamiliar clothes, and instead of stretching and uncurling and asking what was for breakfast, she curled tighter into the covers, pulling her hand away from Ellana.

“How do you feel?” Ellana asked.

Ashara shrugged.

“Rested?”

She nodded.

“I think we’ll wait a little longer to leave. Do you want to stay here?”

She nodded again.

“Can I bathe before we go?” Ashara asked, her voice small.

“Of course. Do you want me to ask if there’s a tub that can be brought in?”

Ashara nodded again. Ellana smoothed the stray curls from her forehead, tucking them back under the blue silk scarf that was now singed and dirtied.

“You don’t need to talk about it now, sweet one. But you know that you can, right? Do you want to?”

She shook her head.

“Do you want company?”

Another shake of her head.

“Very well. I’ll send for the tub. If they don’t have one, I’ll bring over the basin from our room. That’s where we’ll be if you need us. Okay?”

Another nod. Then, quietly. “Was Lucius here?”

“Yes, he was. He stayed right here in the chair until we arrived.”

She nodded in acknowledgement, more slowly this time, like she was processing the information.

“We’ll see you soon,” Ellana said. She looked like she might bend to kiss Ashara’s forehead, but Ashara shrank away.

Solas realized when the door closed behind them that he still hadn’t spoken. The words were lost in his throat. She was hurt and he was powerless to fix that hurt. He couldn’t offer medicine or a spell - or even wisdom. He didn’t have anything to offer.

“I want to pull Falon’Din out of that well and torture him again,” Ellana said quietly when they were in the hall. Then, even more quietly. “Oh gods - I - what I had to do to her… Could she feel that, too?”

Solas didn’t have the answer.

“I’ll send our guard for the tub,” he said. That was one thing he could do.

When he returned to the room, Ellana was pacing slowly. She had a faint sheen of sweat on her brow, he noticed. Of course. The regenerating potion. She couldn’t be comfortable. Her body was reacting to the amount she’d taken. One more mess in the midst of all the other messes. But she spoke before he did.

“Tell me from the beginning.”

“From when I arrived in the temple?”

“No. From when you decided not to honor my wishes and pursue this no further.”

He wanted to argue, or at least force her to rephrase what she said. _I was trying to save you_. It would do no good. While he stood there warring with his thoughts, she shook her head.

“We need to talk about this,” she said. “We need to leave this room ready to be there for our daughter. And right now I have too many thoughts circling in my head. I’m angry at you and I’m scared for you. I’m angry at her and I’m scared for her. I’m scared that this could even happen. We need to consider reversing what you’ve done to the Veil in Enasan. We need to consider that Lucius and Claudia know about the eluvian. That they may have sensed the differences in the Veil. Ashara almost certainly did.”

He shook his head and reached out to still her as she paced.

“You are not well. You need to rest.”

She pulled out of his grasp. “My wellbeing is the least of our concerns right now.”

“It is always a concern.”

“And that’s how we ended up here, isn’t it? Because neither of you can let me go.”

His stomach twisted. He knew the look in her eyes. She would not stop now. She had found the soft spot, and she would press the advantage. She would not blunt her words.

“You’re both convinced if you just keep _pushing_ you’ll get what you want. Consequences be damned,” she said. “I could have lost both of you. I lay here while you slept and that was all I kept thinking. I could have waited and waited and waited back in Skyhold only to hear that -”

She turned away rapidly. He could see by the rise and fall of her shoulders how hard she was working not to cry.

“I am not worth this. My life is not worth either of yours. Why didn’t what I wanted matter to you? I can't ask Ashara. Not yet. But you, Solas? Why?”

 _It did_ , he started to say. But it was wrong, and he knew it. She had accepted her fate, as well as she could. She’d been perfectly clear about what she wanted. He hadn’t gone because of that. It was because of the fear that sat heavy on his chest.

“I don’t know how to lose you. I don’t know how to accept this.”

Ellana’s face changed. How beautiful she was, whatever she said to the contrary - the lines around her eyes only emphasized her gray eyes, and how her expression was softening now.

“But you have to learn, ma’len. You have to. If you can’t, how will Ashara?”

He shook his head.

“Falon’Din said he showed her how to save you. I have not asked her yet, but…”

Now Ellana shook her head.

“Did you see the look in her eyes? It’s still not worth it.” She turned away once more. She started to pace. Then she turned back. “This is my life, Solas. I have a right to decide how it ends. You ignored that when you came here, whatever else happened. I need - I need us to deal with that.”

He knew the taste of guilt too well: how it sat bitter on the tongue, ran bitter all the way down the throat, turned the stomach into a hollow, aching thing. She’d said this already. And he’d replied with only his own pain once more. She knew why he went, of course. That wasn’t what she needed to hear, or what he needed to realize. So he swallowed down the taste of the guilt and spoke the words.

“I am sorry that I didn’t listen to you. It was selfish of me to ignore you. I will not be so unwise - or so hurtful - again.”

_Perhaps there won't even be time for me to make another such mistake._

The room was silent. She only stood a few inches before him, but she felt so far away. Then she took a step closer, and took his hand.

“I know you meant well, vhenan. I am sure if you had not come things would have been worse. I just wish both of you had listened to what I wanted.”

Wasn’t that always it, though? He so often meant well. And yet thousands of years of life still hadn’t taught him any better.

“Solas?”

He squeezed her hand.

“I love you.” The words weren’t a statement or a question - they were an offering. “I love you even when I'm angry. Even when you've hurt me. Ar lath ma, vhenan'ara."

And after thousands of years of life, of mistakes, he had somehow arrived here, in this moment, sitting with this woman who offered him such grace. He might never know how. But he would work every day that they had left to deserve it. He didn't have the strength to say so. Not in words. So he bent and kissed her hand, and rested his head there.

"The rest can wait, I think," Ellana said quietly. "The eluvian. The Veil. Any potential cure. We need to help Ashara through this.”

“Yes," he said, raising his head.

It was her turn to squeeze his hand.

“We will. Help her through this. We will. And to do that - I need you to tell me everything that happened. From the beginning.”

Solas nodded. “Yes. From the beginning.”

So they descended back into the darkness of what happened, into the fear and uncertainty and pain, into the tangled ruins of the world he’d wrought.

*

Ellana kept her mind running. _First, arrange for food for everyone. Then check on Ashara again. Send our guard ahead to make sure the way back to the eluvian is clear. Make sure Ashara eats. Thank Lucius and Claudia. And when we get back to Skyhold remind Solas to reset the wards on the eluvian, to direct agents to listen for any sign that someone saw us…_

If she focused on the details she didn't have to think about anything else.

Like the fact that it didn't even occur to her that Ashara might feel and hear and see what happened while Falon’Din was in control.

Like the fact that she was so afraid and so woozy with the effects of the regenerating draught that she didn't stop to think how much she might be hurting her child.

_I need to think about how to approach Lucius and Claudia about the eluvian. They can't tell anyone. I want to be alone with them but I don't want them to feel intimidated…_

Like the fact that she kept replaying Solas’s retelling over and over again in her mind. How he’d watched Ashara fight and fight and fight. How he couldn’t be sure what damage there might be from the first, botched attempt at using the well.

Like the fact that Solas himself didn’t look well. He was withdrawn in a way she hadn’t seen in years.

_Food, first._

She took a step toward the stairs and pain lanced through her back. She’d sweat out the regenerating potion, a process uncomfortable enough on its own. Now the magic was beginning to flare up. Frustration burned hotter as she closed her eyes and counted through it. Couldn't she stop dying long enough to help fix things?

“I will go. You should save your strength for the journey home.”

Solas didn't touch her when he passed. So she reached out and caught him by the arm.

“Ar lath ma,” she said again, pulling him back so the line of their bodies touched. Maybe that’s what was missing. He smiled, not quite with his lips but with his eyes, and touched her hand, before turning away and going downstairs.

The food was brought up to their room. Ellana went and got Claudia and Lucius, both groggy but awake, and then knocked on Ashara’s door.

“Just a minute,” her daughter called out quietly. The sound of water sloshing in a tub followed.

 _Cake. I’ll have the cooks make her favorite cake when we return. It's small but it's something. And Solas should show her memories of_ -

Pain, blinding her, radiating out from her spine, bending her in half.

_What if she doesn't recover from this before I die?_

“Mamae -”

Ashara was so warm as she helped Ellana stand. When Ellana looked, her skin was bright with heat. She’d taken the silk scarf she’d worn to bed the night before (a day - it had only been a day since they did their hair and talked about love) and unfolded it, wrapping it again so it covered all of her hair. She rarely did so. It made her look older, more severe, drawing attention to the sharp lines of her face that made her look like her father.

“I’ll be fine,” Ellana said. “How hot did you heat the water for your bath?”

A half-hearted shrug. Lowered eyes. Ellana tipped her chin back up.

“You’re safe. He can't hurt you.”

After a pause, she nodded. She didn't relinquish her hold on her mother’s waist as they went into the room. Solas was speaking as they entered.

“Truly - without your help -” He looked towards them and fell silent.

“Everything all right?” Ellana asked.

“Yes. I was merely expressing my gratitude to Lucius and Claudia.”

Ashara’s eyes were lowered again. She dropped her arm from around her mother’s waist and instead held onto her own arm, a gesture equal parts protective and ashamed.

“Indeed,” Ellana said. _Though I might wish that one of them had simply stopped her from coming at all. Not time for that._ “Let’s eat, and then be on our way.”

There wasn’t a proper table, so they all found odd places to sit - Ellana on a chair, Solas on the bed, Claudia leaning against an end table, Lucius on another chair. Ashara remained standing, and picked apart a roll. Ellana did her best with the overly-salted pork and soft vegetables, but tremors ran through her now and then, making it hard to hold her fork. Solas didn’t seem to notice, thankfully. His eyes were trained on their daughter.

“Can you feel the magebane any longer?” He asked. Ashara shook her head. “Good. I am glad. Be sure to eat more than that roll. It is a draining poison to overcome.”

“Here - take my seat,” Lucius said, rising from the other chair in the room. Ashara shook her head.

“It’s fine.”

“It will be hard to eat anything else standing like that. Please, amata.”

Amata? Ellana knew the word amatus well enough from Dorian. She could only assume this version was feminine, like the difference between lethallan and lethallin. Did Ashara know it? If she did, she gave no sign - but she did walk reluctantly over to where he stood, and took his seat. Without speaking, Lucius got her a plate, carefully choosing a piece of pork (was it Ellana’s imagination, or did he push aside the fatty ones, knowing that she would not eat them?) and a healthy helping of the vegetables.

“Thank you,” she said when he brought it to her.

“You won’t thank me after you taste it,” he joked. Then he turned to face Solas, and then to face Ellana, eyebrows raised in alarm. “That is - I am very grateful, but -”

Claudia chuckled and it brought a small smile to Ellana’s face, too. “We all knew what you meant, Lucius,” she said.

Ashara’s lips did not lift in a smile. She did begin cutting up the pork into small pieces. She ate one or two, and then pushed around the others, like she was preparing to make her case for dessert before dinner. Eventually she managed a few more bites, and then sopped up the juices with her roll, and ate that too, piece by little piece. Ellana felt a little more settled at the sight. Her own hand shook, and her own stomach churned, and she knew the pain that awaited her when she stood again, but her daughter was eating, and looking up now and then to meet their eyes, and when they got back to Skyhold she would go straight to the cook and remind them that Ashara’s favorite cake was the chocolate one with berries...

But then she was also watching Ashara’s fingers as they worked, and suddenly she couldn’t even remember which hand she’d started breaking first, whether or not she got to the second by the time there was so much pain that Falon’Din tried to flee, and she hadn’t asked Ashara yet if she remembered, if she felt it, or if anyone had checked her hands once more to ensure they healed properly…

There was acid in the back of her throat. She couldn’t be sick now. That would draw all the attention to her. This wasn’t about her. It felt good and it felt terrible. Good when they cleaned up and everyone was focused on Ashara and not on her. Terrible when Ashara flinched at the sound of her father speaking Elvhen to her (did Falon’Din show her anything about him in Elvhenan? Was it because they had to fight each other?). Good when she could just quietly take a sip of the regenerating potion while Solas checked Ashara’s hands. Terrible when she stopped and tried to think of that last time Ashara had ever spoken so little. Terrible when she remembered, as they passed back through the eluvian, that the only reason any of them was there was because of her. Because they were trying to save her life.

It wasn’t worth it. Not if it stole Ashara’s smile, made her proud and confident daughter so small and so afraid.

As they made their way through the Crossroads, Ashara said nothing. She did not even glance around. She looked straight in front of her. Ellana walked beside her, and looked up into her face, searching for some sign of what she was thinking, something that would tell her what to say.

“What?” Ashara said, at last.

What was there, really, to say? Now, when it was still an open wound?

“Nothing,” Ellana said. “Just remembering when I didn't have to look up to see your face. It still amazes me, how tall you are.”

That did earn her a small smile.

It was otherwise a nearly silent journey. There were few people on the Crossroads, and their hoods were enough to hide their identities. As they neared the eluvian in Skyhold, Solas broke their silence.

“We will need a story, should anyone have noted our absence from Skyhold.”

There was some debate - they couldn’t say they’d gone anywhere that required the use of horses, because the stablemaster would have noticed them coming or going. They didn’t want to say they’d gone anywhere involving the well-traveled routes to and from the keep, either. Eventually they settled on a story about searching for rare herbs by moonlight, when they bloomed. They each repeated the story, ensuring their details were accurate. Everyone but Ashara.

“Ashara,” Ellana called. “It’s your turn.”

Her eyes were glazed over. She tried once more.

“Ashara? Ashara?”

Ashara’s eyes slid back into focus and then grew wide. She took a stumbling step backwards, looking around frantically.

“Sorry - I was - I don’t know where I was or what I was thinking I was just -” She took in their surroundings. “Skyhold. We’re almost back. I thought we were still -”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. She was panicking, folding in on herself again. Ellana took her by the shoulder.

“It’s alright, Ashara. It’s alright. You were lost in your thoughts. You’ve had a long day, it’s only natural -”

Ashara pulled away. Her breath was still too short and sharp. Ellana felt her own panic rising. _No no no, how to fix this, how to make her stop?_ Then Solas stepped in front of their daughter.

“Breathe with me, da’vhenan. Slowly. Just in and out. That’s all of you have to do. Ready?”

It didn’t work at first, of course. Ashara sank to her knees first, and then sat back into a ball, but he stayed at her side, breathing and counting, until at last she copied him, and they were like two waves, rising and falling in time, and Ellana’s heart broke into a thousand sweet, sharp shards.

“Ready to stand?” Solas asked quietly. After a pause, Ashara nodded. Then she spoke, so quietly Ellana almost didn’t catch it.

“I don’t want to be lost again. Ever again.”

“You won’t be. And if you were, we would find you. We will always find you.”

It was a lofty promise to make. Perhaps an unfair one. There was no such guarantee, not really. But it gave Ashara the strength to stand. Her eyes flitted to Ellana, and then to Lucius and Claudia - Ellana had all but forgotten them standing there, witnessing this. Claudia looked pensive - Lucius, on the other hand, looked openly pained. He stood with one foot forward, like he might have gone to her if he’d had the chance. As Ashara moved to rejoin them, he managed to smooth the expression into something less raw.

“I’m sorry,” Ashara said.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Ellana said at once.

“I didn’t mean to panic. I frightened you.”

“Whatever you are feeling - feel it, and let us help you.” They were simple words, but Ellana hoped they were what Ashara needed to hear.

Once everyone was composed, they went through the eluvian, and stood once more in Skyhold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that chapter wasn’t boring - it was difficult to write, on a number of levels. Next up: both Lucius and Ashara get their chance to process (so: more angst).


	21. Three Days, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good lord, this chapter got away from me. When it hit 10,000 words, I realized it probably needed to be split into 2. So, here is part one!
> 
> No major warnings this time, except to say that Ashara does have two POV sections in this chapter, one of which is marked with two asterisks (**) because she is struggling with what’s happened, including some thoughts that verge on self-harm but never cross the line. It's nothing extreme, but I don't want anyone to read it if there's even the slightest chance it would be upsetting to them! It is the shorter of the two sections.

_ It isn’t my place. _

It was what Lucius thought when Ashara woke from her torment, gasping, terrified, immediately pulling away from them. He wanted so badly to go to her side, to be the one to hold her and tell her she was safe. But it wasn't his place.

_ I want it to be my place. _

That was the thought that followed, that played over and over in his head as he sat at her bedside that day, holding her hand.  _ I want this to be my place. _

But how did you earn a place in someone’s life? In their family?

It was what led him to insist that she eat. He hadn't really intended to call her amata again, not in front of her parents, not without finding out if she knew what it meant. It felt right, even if his face with hot with embarrassment at his slip, at his silly attempt at a joke. It felt right to be with her, to care for her. To do one small thing to ease the fear and pain she exuded with every motion, every word.

Then she panicked again in the Crossroads and this time he did nearly go to her. Every bit of him screamed to go and hold her. Maybe it was good that he didn't. It didn't seem to be what she needed. Her father didn't touch her as he soothed her and brought her back to herself. How would Lucius know what to do if it happened again? How could he belong here?

He was being stupid and selfish, of course. He reminded himself of that as they stepped through the eluvian back into Skyhold. He was asking the wrong questions. He should be worrying about Ashara’s wellbeing. Not how he fit into her life. Not the emotion that filled him from the crown of his head to his toes when he looked at her, the emotion that flooded him when she collapsed in his arms after trying to use the well.

_ I can't lose you. I need you in ways I don't understand. In ways I need to understand. _

That wasn't her burden. Not right now. Her only burden was healing from what happened.

What did happen? Was that actually an Elvhen god who possessed her, or simply a twisted spirit? Ellana addressed him as a false god. What did that mean?

Ellana. She was limping, her face twisted in pain. Solas was still focused on Ashara, a few paces ahead, saying something to her he couldn't hear. Lucius went to Ellana’s side instead.

“Do you want help, serah?” He asked, offering an arm. She snorted.

“After the day we’ve had, there's no need for ‘serah.’” She slipped her hand through his arm anyway. He was surprised how much weight she put on him immediately - not that she weighed much to begin with. She was built like the elves he’d seen in Tevinter, so slight it was shocking. Her illness hadn't helped that.

Once they were nearly back to the main part of the keep, Solas noticed that Lucius and Ellana had fallen behind. He watched them catch up with an odd look on his face. Lucius wished, not for the first time, that the elf was easier to read.

“Are you well?” Solas asked Ellana once they reached him.

“Well enough. Lucius simply offered his assistance, and I accepted.”

Solas searched his wife’s face, and then glanced back to their daughter. Ashara was hovering by the door, fidgeting with a tear in her robes, not looking at them. Solas did this twice more, and Lucius at last caught the emotion he was projecting.  _ He needs to care for both of them. He doesn’t know which way to turn. _

“I don’t mind helping Ellana back to your quarters, if you want to stay with Ashara,” Lucius offered.

“You have my thanks,” Solas said after considering for a moment.

“I don’t need help,” Ashara said then. “I’m just going to the library.”

“Why?” Solas asked. Ashara shrugged. “Ashara - I’d rather you were not alone. Not at a time like this. Let me at least walk you there.”

“Okay.”

“I can come, too,” Claudia said. Now Ashara looked more uncertain.

“No. It’s fine. Papae will walk me there.”

Now everyone hesitated. The silence grew thick, and uncomfortable, and Ashara looked down and began to fidget again.

“Let’s go,” Lucius said. “I will help Ellana back to her quarters and Solas and Ashara will go to the library. Claudia - you look like you could still use more rest. I’m still in awe of what you did with the spirits.”

Did he go too far, mentioning something about the temple? Was all of that presumptuous? He wasn’t someone who led. But everyone nodded, and trickled through the door.

His walk with Ellana was quiet. They drew little attention going through the hall at that late hour. She winced now and then, but never asked him to slow his pace. When they reached the stairs to her quarters, she insisted she could walk alone, but he followed behind her, just in case. He couldn’t help but look around once he was there. In contrast to the last time he was there, when everything was carefully prepared for a visit, it was a mess now. The bed was unmade, the chest of drawers was littered with bottles and vials of various kinds, towels were thrown over one arm chair - even the desk chair hadn’t been pushed in. He averted his eyes. It was a domestic scene, and a chaotic one. A place he didn’t belong.

“Thank you again, Lucius. Not just for walking me here.” Ellana waited until he looked up in acknowledgement, and then spoke again. “Does amata mean what I think it means?”

Kaffas.

“Dorian calls Bull amatus,” she supplied when he didn’t respond.

“Yes,” Lucius said.

Ellana looked at him a long while after that, or at least it felt so. It wasn’t the way Solas seemed to pin him with his gaze, like he was surveying a problem he didn’t feel like solving. It was more appraising than that. More kind.

“I see. I’m not certain she knows that. Or, if she does, she doesn’t realize it right now. She seemed - more uncertain of your affection when I spoke to her last night.”

Well, then there was no longer any illusion of her parents not knowing about their - entanglement? There wasn’t really a word for it. Also - Ashara, uncertain? He felt a twinge of guilt.

“I care a great deal for your daughter. Perhaps I have not done a good job expressing that to her, yet. There’s just - ” he said at last. At least he managed to keep his eyes on hers, however much he wanted to look away.

“I know. There’s so much else happening. Especially now. I was simply curious.”

“I want to be there for her now.”

“I hope you can be.”

There were steps on the staircase below them. Solas appeared moments later.

“She wished to be left alone?” Ellana asked softly.

“Yes. I considered staying there, out of sight, but I wanted to come and see you. You do not look well.”

Ellana sighed. “Always such sweet words for me, ma’lath.”

The words tickled something in the back of Lucius’s mind. Something Ashara said only the night before, though it felt like days had passed.  _ Rest, ma’lath. _

“If I may - what does that mean? Ma’lath?”

Ellana blinked a couple of times before answering. “My love.”

Through the haze of worry and uncertainty, Lucius felt something like lightning race through his blood. 

“I see,” he managed to say.

Now both Ellana and Solas were staring at him - Solas with something distinctly like concern on his face. Lucius didn’t know what to say now, except to take his leave. He was halfway down the stairs when he heard Ellana call his name, and returned.

“Perhaps you could go to the library and check on Ashara again. I would - we would - appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Lucius said. “Should I come back and tell you how she’s doing?”

“Only if you feel it is necessary. I know she will still be - distressed.” He could hear Ellana’s frustration with her own word choice. It was worse than distress. But it was frightening to name what it truly was.

On the way to the library, Lucius thought back to the riots that consumed Vyrantium when he was young, to the days after his brother’s death, when he tried fruitlessly to find his parents, and finally realized that he was alone in the world. It was not the same kind of pain that Ashara had to be experiencing right now, but it was all he had to lean on. What would he have wanted, if someone tried to be there for him during that time?

Honestly, he hadn’t wanted anyone. He wanted the people he couldn’t have back. Mother, father, and Erast.

He felt frustrated as he climbed the stairs to the library, passing the vibrant murals that Ashara kept promising she’d explain. He wanted an answer, something concrete he could do that he knew would make her feel better. The real truth was that there was nothing, and that made him feel helpless, and it wasn’t what he wanted to feel now.

_ Ma’lath meant my love. But she said it before - all this. Who knows what she’s feeling now? _

Ashara was sitting at one of the desks in the library, a small stack of books at her side. She was staring at them, her hands clasped, spine rigid, digging the nail of her thumb into the skin of the other hand. When Lucius moved so he could see her face, she had the same wild, staring look in her eyes that she did in the Crossroads before her mother called her name and she panicked once more. Lucius’ heart sped up. Should he make his presence known? Would that frighten her, as her mother accidentally had? Was it better, even if it frightened her, to pull her out of whatever part of her mind had trapped her?

He waited and waited, watching as Ashara took slow, deep breaths - the kind a person only took when they were trying to calm themselves. Her thumb dug harder and harder into her hand. Tears formed in her eyes and she tried to blink them away. Then at last she caught sight of him, and dropped her clasped hands and took shorter breaths and opened a book and tried to act like she’d been reading, and that there weren’t tears on her cheeks again.

“What?” She snapped.

“I was just coming to see if you were -” What? Fine? Of course she wasn’t. “If there was anything you needed.”

“I need to read.” She realized the tears escaped and wiped them away. “I need to think. I need to be alone.”

“Very well.”

Lucius went back down to the first level of the rotunda, and considered leaving completely. Despite sleeping most of the day, he still felt tired. But in the loud, echoing space, he could hear the ragged breath that Ashara took on the floor above him, the sound of a book slamming shut, the dull thud of her dropping her head to the desk. He froze. She told him to leave…

A minute later, the book reopened, and she took a steadying breath, and the pages began to turn. Another moment passed, and there was the sound of a quill scratching against parchment. A sense of awe flooded him. It hadn’t even been a day. It hadn’t even been twelve hours since they freed her. She was tired and afraid and hurting, and here she was - already fighting, already learning, already pushing forward (Maker, he hoped that’s what she was doing). He was in awe of her, this woman he’d found by chance in a library in Minrathous, whom he’d followed halfway across Thedas, who’d smiled and touched his hand and whispered his name in the dark while she unraveled underneath his fingers. Even if this was it - even if she never said those words again - he could count himself lucky for having known her, for having shared a small piece of her life. He was not the same person who approached her in that library, and though he hadn’t yet counted all the reasons why, he knew that Ashara Lavellan loomed the largest.

That feeling filled him up until he had to sit down on a couch in the rotunda, directly below her, and lean his head against the cool plaster of the mural, just so he could drink it in. He would stay there all night if it meant he could hear the sound of her quill, of the pages turning, even of her quiet sighs and tears, each of them the sound of a strength that was bent but not broken (he hoped, hoped,  _ hoped  _ it was not broken). She would come down if she really needed someone - or she wouldn’t, and it didn’t matter in that moment. It was enough to be near, whether she needed him or not, and he closed his eyes with that thought warm in his mind.

*

“It would seem you are developing a habit of falling asleep in odd places.”

The words startled Lucius into consciousness again. It took a moment for the pieces to fall into sleep. Rotunda, couch, the library and Ashara above - Solas standing before him, arms folded carefully behind his back, in what appeared to be loose and comfortable nightclothes. It was still night, then. He couldn’t have been asleep for long.

“Yes,” Lucius said lamely. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “I am sorry I didn’t come back after I came here -”

“It is no matter. We did not expect you to. I simply could not sense Ashara in the Fade as I slept, and it worried us. She was not in her room, so I came here.”

Lucius listened and heard nothing coming from the library.

“She was up there before. I was staying down here just in case.”

“I thought as much. You should rest, Master Talvas. Preferably in your own bed.”

Lucius winced at the words after Solas turned away, hoping he didn’t mean anything by them. He’d intended to go back to his own room, of course, but there was no need to press that point now. He found himself unwilling to go just yet, instead listening to the voices that drifted down from the library above. He couldn’t understand the lilting flow of Elvhen, but he could hear the emotions in their voices. Solas, quiet and concerned. Ashara, clipped and angry. He could hear books closing and papers shifting around. A long silence. Solas spoke once more, and then, Ashara, in Trade:

“It is my fault. If I hadn’t -” A slow, deep breath. “It’s my fault Mamae came. If she’s hurt, if she’s getting sicker - I have to fix this. And first I have to feel better and get past this so I can fix it.”

“Not all in one night, da’vhenan. Give yourself time. You need rest.”

“No. There is no time.”

Solas sighed. He started to speak again, but Ashara got there first.

“Please go.” Then, a little more softly. “I’ll go to sleep soon.”

He heard Solas’s footsteps and turned to leave himself, when her voice drifted down again. “Lucius?”

“Yes?” he called back. His foolish heart felt lighter, hearing his name on her tongue.

“You need to go, too. I don’t want anyone else here just because of me.”

How much he wanted to argue with her - that she was worth the discomfort, that she was worth so much more than even that - but he didn’t.

“I will. But you know where I am.”

He went back to his room, and though his bed was comfortable, he found it more difficult to sleep there than in the rotunda, knowing she was near.

**

Ashara didn’t meant to stay in the library until the sun came up. She didn’t. Just like she didn’t mean to stop and start reading the same page of the same book a hundred times. Just like she didn’t mean to get startled every time she felt herself slipping towards sleep.

It felt too much like slipping away again. Like  _ him _ , stealing over her mind, taking her self away, making her hurt people.

She was going to read about possession. That would help, right? She’d never yet found something she couldn’t understand with enough research.

She looked at her notes. They were nonsensical. Stops and starts. These books were technical. Descriptions of the signs of possession and what to do. There was nothing that said how you could feel at home in your own mind, your own skin again.

She wanted to go take another bath, as hot as she could stand, hotter. She wanted to feel every inch of skin on fire because then she knew it was her skin. She wanted to dig her nails in hard to her palms because then she knew she had control over her hands.

She wanted to curl up and sleep and never speak to anyone again. She wanted to run after her father and apologize for telling him to leave. She wanted to run to Lucius’ room and kiss him until she couldn’t breathe.

She wanted to be able to say  _ his _ name.

She should just go to bed. Make a conscious decision to do so. Then it was her decision. Not like falling asleep at the desk. Not like watching your own hands raise high your staff, feeling your own body flood with the energy of the Fade and direct it all at your father as he bent, crippled, to the floor.

_ I have been such a fool. _

They all warned her, didn’t they? 

Don’t talk to the spirit.

Don't go to Oruvun.

Don't don't don't.

_ Don't fight _ , he’d whispered in her ear.  _ Don't even try. You will watch me flay the skin from their bones with your own hands. You will never again speak with your own tongue. You will not take a step that I don't wish you to take. You are the unwanted whelp of a traitor I should have killed long ago. Let me show you the world he wanted to bring back, the world he almost chose over you - _

Her breath was coming too short. Her hands were shaking.  _ Stop stop stop stop remembering. _

She couldn't keep going like this.

_ It's only been one day, _ she reminded herself.  _ Papae even said so. You can't expect to fix this in one day. You’ll be okay. _

But she needed to be fixed now. Because Mamae still hadn't stopped dying.

She knew Falon’Din (his name slipped through in a rush and her heart pounded and then she calmed) showed her what she needed to do. The same way he showed her parties that lasted for years while no one spoke a single truthful word, while slaves outside built marvels without resting - the same way he showed her Papae standing by impassive while a slave begged for mercy at his feet, while Falon’Din’s men dragged the poor man away - and each time he showed her she  _ felt _ the memories, like she was the one who was drunk or gleeful, like her hands were the ones that drew the runes on the slave and then brought them searing to life -

Stop. She needed to think of something else.

She gathered up all the books and notes and went to her room, only to drop them, disgusted, at her feet. She didn’t need them. They were useless. She already knew that. Why did she bring them?

_ How did this happen? How did Falon’Din get into my head? _

She knew. She heard him say it to her father.  _ You knew what would happen when you used my orb. _

And the Veil was different in Enasan. Modified.

_ I am the unwanted whelp of a traitor who brought an eluvian to Skyhold, who has an orb, who is still trying to break the world - _

One step at a time. 

_ To the bed. Don’t even undress. Just lie down. Close your eyes. Go to sleep. _

Ashara entered the Fade, and forced herself to dream only of empty blackness.

*

She woke to a sharp loud sound, over and over, like bones breaking, and she was up and out of the covers, a barrier wrapped safely around her, fire crackling along her palms.

A knock at the door.

She was hearing a knock at the door.

She let the barrier dissipate and recalled the fire, and opened the door. It was Claudia and Lucius, dressed in different clothes than the previous day. No ash or tears on them. No marker of what happened.

“Good morning,” Lucius said. His face was carefully neutral.

“We thought you might like to come and train,” Claudia said. Then she frowned. “How long did you sleep?”

“A few hours,” Ashara lied. The light in her room told her it had only been one or two since she staggered back to her bed. She thought about getting her staff and going with them. She was still agitated, and her mana pulsed within her, unchanged, as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't used it to raise the dead, to hurl lightning and fire and ice in patterns she’d never known, as if she hadn't torn away her friends’ barriers like paper, as if she hadn't looked at them with murder in her eyes -

“Ash - it's fine. You don't have to come if you don't want to. Rest. We just thought we’d offer.” Claudia put a placating hand on Ashara’s arm. She must have said something, or shown something in her face, some sign of her fear.

“I’m sorry,” Ashara said.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing. We all want to help.”

_ That’s why I’m sorry. I don’t know how to let you. _

Ashara put her hand on Claudia’s, and squeezed. “Thank you, lethallin.”

“Now rest,” she said. “Maybe we can come get you when we’re ready for breakfast.”

Rest. It was so easy to go back to bed and slip back into sleep. Maybe she should just sleep all day. It was easier.

But it wasn’t that long until they knocked again, and she knew they would worry if she didn’t answer, or if she said she didn’t want to come down. And Mamae - she should go see her. But the ritual - she still hadn’t gone back and studied the memory. First she needed to do that. So she went down to breakfast and dutifully ate hers, not even noticing the second sweet bun that appeared on her plate at first. A quick glance confirmed that Claudia still had hers. Lucius’ plate was empty. He smiled when she met his eyes. She picked up the bun and enjoyed its warmth for a moment, and then took a slow bite, determined to savor it this time. Spicy cinnamon, tender bread, sweet sugar. She licked her fingers clean.

“You should go see your parents,” Claudia said when they were all done. “We’ll be in my quarters if you need us.”

Yes. Parents. She was surprised she hadn’t seen Papae yet. She hadn’t felt him in the Fade either time she slept, come to think of it. No matter. She just needed to go back to her room and meditate, that way she could access the memory in the Fade and study it in detail, then explain it to her parents, and how was her skin clammy just thinking about it? 

“Ashara.”

Papae’s voice, calling out to her from across the hall. She went to him. It was better to see him than to go see the memory, right? Even if she looked at him now and wondered.  _ How long had he had the orb? What was he doing to the Veil in Enasan? Does Mamae know? And why? Why is he doing it? He said he had a responsibility to this world - that it mattered... _

“On dhea,” he said when she reached him. “Did you sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He looked at her like there was something else he wanted to say. “You should go sit with your mother. I need to go to the undercroft to brew her something - I will not be gone long.”

“Of course.”

It felt so normal, and the thought made her sad. Whatever else happened, normal was still Papae brewing various potions, Mamae in bed, someone sitting with her, counting the moments.

_ I will fix this. I will watch the memory and walk in Falon’Din’s skin again and I will fix this. _

There wasn’t even an edge of panic in the thought, this time. Good. Progress.

Mamae was in bed, leaning against the headboard, her eyes closed. Eyes that were hard as stone when they bored into hers, when she reminded Falon’Din that she was not afraid of false gods.

“There you are,” Mamae said when she sensed her presence, opening her eyes. And they were just Mamae’s eyes. Nothing else there. The knots in Ashara’s spine eased. “Do you want to come sit?”

“Yes.”

She sat next to her mother in the bed as she had so often before. She felt very light, all of the sudden. Why was she so worried before?

“Did you have the sweet buns at breakfast today?” Mamae asked.

“Yes. I had two.”

“Good.” She grimaced after she said the word, readjusting her pillows with a sigh.

_ I should tell her. _

“I can fix it,” Ashara said. “Falon -” She hadn’t said the name out loud yet. She tripped over the second syllable. “He showed me.”

Mamae waited before answering.

“So your father said. I’m more worried about you, da’asha. How are you feeling?”

No one had asked directly yet. What was the right answer? “I don’t know. I need to study the memory he showed me. Then I’ll know. I need to figure out exactly how to do what they were doing - and then -”

_ There were two slaves, each with different vallaslin, stone slabs, both bleeding, mages moving the blood from one body to another - but how much blood did you have to drain? What happened to the person you took the blood from? _

“Ashara.”

She must have trailed off.

“I meant it. I’m more worried about you than I am myself. This memory isn’t worth it if it hurts you.”

“But it has to be worth it,” Ashara said. “Otherwise all of this happened for no reason.”

“Ashara, look at me.” She turned to meet her mother’s eyes. “What was the one thing I asked of you when you went to Tevinter?”

Ashara thought back to that night sitting on the steps of the keep, her feet sore from dancing, her cheeks sore from smiling, Mamae in her wedding dress, the roar of the party behind them.

“You said I had to forgive myself if I couldn't save you.”

“And I will hold you to that promise.”

“But I only promised because I knew I would find the answer and I  _ did _ , Mamae, he showed me and I know it will work the only thing stopping me from learning it and understanding it is  _ me _ because I am weak and foolish and if you die because I couldn't overcome this -”

It wasn’t white-hot panic that made her stand and walk away this time, but bone-deep fear. She felt heavy in her gut but light in her head, like this was all happening to someone else - or like she wanted it to happen to someone else, but knew it was still her. The burden still rested on her shoulders.

“Then take three days,” her mother said. “Three days before you try to study the memory. Three days to heal. For my sake. Can you do that?”

Three days. It had only been one full day since the temple. It felt like a small eternity. Three full days…

But it was Mamae who was asking. Mamae who she betrayed by going to Oruvun at all. Mamae who dragged herself there all the way from Skyhold to protect her.

“Yes. I can do that,” Ashara said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for part one! In part two, which will be up sometime in the next 24 hours, we'll see how those three days play out.


	22. Three Days, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings for this part.

The first day she spent mostly in her parents’ room, not talking much. Too many things still prickled her. She wanted, again and again, to ask her father:

_What were you doing? What were you thinking? Where is the orb now?_

But she wanted him to just be Papae right now. The man who knelt at her side in the Crossroads and counted ( _breathe, just breathe, that’s it, ma da’len_ ). The man who, that day, quietly brought her a book on possession, written by the mages who survived the ordeal, and another written by an Inquisition soldier about the ills war could inflict on the mind, and how to overcome them.

“Read them when you are ready, if you think they will help,” he said, and of course he knew what she’d gone to the library in search of the night before. He flicked his magic towards her, a friendly, gentle hello. She returned the gesture.

She wanted that man. Not Fen’Harel.

She felt tired most of that day. Distant from herself. As much as she wanted to ask those questions she didn't have the energy to form the words. Did she really leave this very keep seven months ago, sure of the world and her place in it? She couldn’t imagine feeling sure of anything that day, except for the times that one of her parents would pass her where she sat by the window and touch her shoulder or kiss her forehead. Then, at least, she was sure she was loved.

In the Fade that night she still cultivated a careful blackness, reaching out only to assure herself of the spirits of the people she knew nearby. Mamae, Papae, Claudia, Lucius. No one had left her. No one else seemed to see what she did.

She was no longer Ashara-who-is-intelligent, Ashara-who-is-kind, Ashara-who-is-brave. She was Ashara-who-was-possessed, Ashara-who-is-irresponsible, Ashara-who-is-weak.

The second day she found she still didn’t like the press of people in the hall. Too many eyes on her. Too much noise. It made her think of the mass of slaves, weeping, sent forth to battle, and herself standing there, impassive, saying: _the halla have more courage. Kill those who try to hang back._ No matter how many times she said _that was him, that was him, that was him_ she could smell the blood and piss and death feel the apathy as if it was her own.

So she spent the second day outside, in a little-used corner of the battlements. It was cold, but she didn’t want to go in again for her cloak. At least the cold was bracing, as good in its own way as the hot water she scrubbed herself with at making her _feel_ . _This is my body, my skin, no one else here but me._

She played with magic in her corner, drawing runes and watching them glow to life and then fade away. She knew now what it felt like to spend a year weaving a spell, to feel magic flow freely through her veins with no intervening Veil. To feel men and women and children bound absolutely to her will, their faces marked for her glory -

_His. His. His. Not mine._

_That was the world Papae wanted back?_

Because that was the only reason the Veil was different in Enasan. Why a monster had walked through the world wearing her face, for however short a time. Because he wanted that world back. Her tears cut warm tracks over her cold cheeks at the thought. She was Ashara-whose-father-was-a-traitor. Ashara-whose-father-couldn’t-let-the-past-go.

“Ash? What are you doing all the way up here?”

Her face was buried in her knees but she recognized Claudia’s voice, and her senses picked up Lucius’s aura alongside the woman’s. She looked up, and both their faces fell at once.

“Oh, Ash - you shouldn’t be crying up here alone.”

They both moved to sit down on either side of her. As Claudia did so, she stepped on a dormant ice glyph Ashara drew earlier and yelped, escaping from it easily. Fear flooded Ashara at once.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think anyone was coming, I was just -”

“It’s fine,” Claudia laughed, sitting down. “Gave me a good wake up call.”

Lucius, already seated at her side, squeezed her arm. “Do you want to talk?”

Ashara considered it. “No. Yes. I don’t - I don’t know where to start.”

“You could tell us one thing you feel,” Claudia suggested.

Ashara searched the tangled mess of thought and feeling and memory that swarmed inside her.

“Ashamed,” she managed at last. She wanted to say more, to explain, to show that she knew all the ways she’d failed from the very day she left Skyhold, but of course that was when she cried again, and that only made her more ashamed. She wanted to stand and leave, but they each put a hand on her back where she sat curled up into a ball, and said soothing, well-meaning things.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You did nothing wrong.”

“We’re here.”

“We’re not angry with you.”

They just didn’t understand. She would explain. But then they would leave, because they, too, would be ashamed. How could they have followed such a stupid child, whose father was the villain everyone said he was, or wanted to be her friend? She bit back the words.

“I need to go back inside,” Claudia said after a little while. “Your mother told Dorian I would speak to him later.” She hesitated. “We spoke to your parents. About some of what happened. About what we should and shouldn’t say to anyone who wasn’t there.”

“Oh?” Ashara said. She had the floating feeling again, like she was there and not-there at the same time.

“We - Lucius and I - we were frightened by what we saw at the temple. About what it could mean. I still am. Your parents said they couldn’t tell us everything. But we agreed we wouldn’t tell anyone the whole truth - not even Dorian.”

“What will you say?”

“That you were possessed by a demon while trying to find a way to save your mother. It isn’t so far from the truth,” Lucius said.

Ashara laughed, but it was a short, bitter sound. A half-truth. Her father must have thought that one up. Was it that easy for him? How many half-truths had he told her? _(And yet, and yet, and yet, he’s still Papae, half of my home, of my family, if I can’t trust him who can I trust?)_

“Will you tell Corix?” Ashara asked.

Lucius looked down at once.

“There’s no point in hiding it,” Claudia said.

“Hiding what?”

“A letter arrived from him. In light of my failure to provide useful information about your family, he has chosen to withdraw his offer of patronage.” He looked up and quickly added: “I don’t want you to worry. I’ll figure something out. It’s the least of your concerns right now.”

Ashara took his hand. He was right. She didn't have the energy to worry about it now. Later, perhaps. There had to be a way to fix this.  _Which was how you ended up here, anyway. Your conviction that you can fix things. Maybe you can't._

“I’m sorry.”

“It was my choice.”

Claudia rose, and said her farewells, and left. Lucius made no move to leave his place at her side, and after a moment, Ashara turned her body so she was leaning on him, and he let go of her hand to put his arm around her shoulder, accepting her weight.

“Can I ask you something about what happened? You don’t have to answer,” he said. She nodded. “Your father said that use of old Elvhen magic in Enasan may have made the Veil there less stable, which is what let Falon’Din take over your body, but he suspects that he may have gotten a foothold in your mind earlier. Do you - do you know when that happened?”

Ashara was quiet for a little while, considering.

“You don’t have to answer,” Lucius emphasized again.

“The night before we reached Skyhold,” she said finally. “When he stopped tampering with my connection to the Fade.”

“I thought so,” Lucius said. They sat in silence a little while longer, and then he drew away from her, so he could look her in the eye. “I wanted to ask because - I wanted to be sure that when we were - intimate - that it was always you. That you actually - wanted to be with me like that. If the answer is no, I will understand -”

“Lucius, it’s fine -”

They talked over each other for a moment before they both stopped, looked at each other nervously, and then looked away. The not-there feeling began to recede. She was here, in this moment. With him. But here was another thing to be embarrassed of, now that she had truly begun to question everything she’d done ( _why did I invite Lucius to come along with us in the first place, back when he was a stranger? Why did I answer Falon’Din whenever he called? Why didn’t I hesitate to go to the veridium mine?_ )

“It was always me,” Ashara said finally. “But - I feel so stupid now. The way I flung myself at you then. I had no idea what I was doing. No wonder you thought it could have been -”

“No, no, I was always flattered, just - worried -”

“But I could have been less pushy - if you don’t want me to anymore I’ll stop -”

“That isn’t it at all -”

They stopped again, and Ashara could feel her face flush even in spite of the cold, and for the first time since she woke gasping from her long nightmare, a little laugh escaped her. Lucius smiled, and reached out to touch her cheek. His black hair had grown out since they met, she realized suddenly. It had soft waves in it now, where before it had been short. She wanted to run her fingers through it.

“I don’t want this to end,” he said. “When you’re ready - if you’re ready - I want to continue to know you better. In any way I can.”

“I’d like that.”

The wind picked up, and Lucius resumed his former spot at her side, draping his cloak over them both this time, and in the warmth and safety of that shelter he spoke again.

“I hear you talked to your mother about us.”

“Oh, no - what did she say to you?” Ashara asked.

“She asked me what ‘amata’ meant.”

Ashara had to think for a moment. Ah - the word he’d said back in Enasan. And before leaving. Both times she’d been in such a haze of fear that she hadn’t stopped to ask what it meant, herself.

“And?”

“It’s the same as - how do you say it? Ma lathe?”

“Ma’lath. Well, technically, emma lath, but we shorten it,” she corrected, as if her heart wasn’t hammering.

“Ma’lath,” he repeated.

There was a conversation to be had here, Ashara knew, about those words as simple pet names and about what they could mean more broadly - but not now, not yet, she could wait, she knew this now. Something funny, instead. Something that would keep her mind in sunnier places.

“Well, at least she didn’t ask you about contraceptives. That’s what she wanted to talk to me about the other night.” _Before._

“No,” Lucius said, mouth open in shock.

“Oh, yes. I think she thought we’d already…” She was suddenly too shy to say it outright. And then, hearing his quiet chuckle, seeing how he ran his other hand through his hair, she wanted to press further, just to see if he would laugh again. “You know, there are beds here in Skyhold. And light. Weren’t those your requirements for…?”

_I won’t learn, will I? I’ll still push._

But he smiled - so maybe it wasn’t a bad thing.

“For…?” The quirk of his eyebrows gave him away. He knew what she meant. He smiled again. “I don’t think it’s the time yet, Ash. You have so much to think about. When we do lay together, I don’t want any part of you to be battling this - fear and shame that I still see in your eyes. I want you to have - the most perfect first time. Better than what I had, at any rate.”

But while her mind initially wrapped around the word _when_ , it was the last thing he said that truly caught her attention.

“Better than what you had? What happened?”

“It’s nothing to worry about. I wanted it - she wanted it - just not for the right reasons. I did it because she offered, and because it seemed like - well, like what I should do. You shouldn't have that.”

Her eyes grew wide.

“You never thought I was just after you because I thought I should be - right?” Another failure.

“A little, at first.”

“I’m so sorry. That wasn't it. That was never it.” Except - she could admit to herself, in the privacy of her mind, that it was a little what happened. She was out in the wide world, alone for the first time, ready to see everything it had to offer - and he was handsome, and kind, and it seemed like a good idea that night in Orlais. Something to just finally experience. Somewhere along the way, that feeling had disappeared. But she knew, with a stab of shame, that it started that way.

“It’s fine. I understand that now.” Then, a moment later. “I just want you to have something good.”

Something good. She still wasn’t sure she deserved that. Maybe she wasn’t even ready for it. Not yet. Something good. She let the words keep rolling around in her mind, something round and smooth to push away the rough edges, like a polishing stone. This conversation marked the longest she’d gone without thinking about what happened, she realized. Life would go on, one way or another. Someday.

“You’re something good, you know,” she said at last.

“So are you.”

She took the words with her to bed that night ( _something good, something good, you're something good_ ), and when she slept she tried to dream of good things, friendly spirits, but all her mind kept drifting to was the clearing where she always saw Falon’Din in her dreams, and even Dreamer that she was, she could not overcome the strength of her own fear. The clearing was empty of course, but she’d been unable to find Falon’Din before… what if the spell had failed, and he still lurked in the Fade, waiting?

Or, worse, still lurked somewhere in her mind?

No amount of  _something good_ could banish that.

The air of the Fade crackled with uncertainty until her father appeared and restored the appearance of the forest of her childhood for her, and it filled instead with the smell of summer rain.

“He is gone,” Papae said. “I swear it.”

For once, the forest and the summer rain were not enough, because Falon’Din wasn’t the only thing plaguing her thoughts. She'd thought to confront him at last the next day - but maybe it would easier here.

“But you’re the reason he was here at all,” she said. “Aren’t you?”

For once, her father would not meet her eyes.

“Yes.”

“You’ve been experimenting with the Veil in Enasan. Trying to remove it?”

“Yes.”

“Using his orb.”

“Yes.”

They were all things she already knew. Now she had only to ask the things she didn’t.

“Why?”

“Can I show you?”

She nodded. It was reassuring that he had something to show her. That meant there was an explanation.

The Fade changed shape around them, until they were standing in a room she recognized at once. Her parents’ room in their house in Enasan. They were lying on their bed, Mamae on her side, and Papae on his back, with a tiny bundle cradled against his chest. An infant. Her.

_“Let’s do it slowly,”_ her mother said.

_“Do what slowly?”_

_“The Veil. Could you weaken it over time? Over years?”_

_“In theory, yes.”_

_“Then that’s the trick. Weaken it slowly here in Enasan, so slowly it would not draw attention from other nations. Then eventually, someday, when the world is ready for it - let it fall away from this place.”_

_“You’re talking about a long time, vhenan.”_

_“I know. It may be too long for me. But for the two of you…”_

There was a moment of silence then. The Fade was filled with the warmth of love, of amazement - and of fear, too. Not just Ashara’s own. Then her father spoke again.

_“We will see. It may be that we don't have to wait that long.”_

_“We will see,”_ Mamae said.

Then the sleeping bundle - _me, that’s me_ \- shifted and whimpered and immediately Papae’s hand was on her back, soothing, and Mamae’s hand joined his. They lay there in the silence, joined, and forming plans whose end they could not have known.

“This was for me,” Ashara said finally. It wasn’t a question.

“Not you alone. I never gave up on the idea of restoring the birthright of all elves - of all Thedas. I simply knew that I needed to take time to do it right. To do justice to my responsibility to the world as it is now. I had every intention of doing so. But it had not even been a year since we reunited when I found out your mother was with child…” He shook his head. “I could not bear the thought of you coming into this world only to leave it. To leave me. I took actions that I regretted even at that time -”

“You found the temple,” Ashara said. “The fear spells we found surrounding it…”

“The work of my agents. I acquired the orb with every intent of removing the Veil from Enasan. Of giving you the world I felt you deserved. Your mother came up with a better plan, as you saw."

This was something Ashara had never considered. Mamae was the one people trusted. The one who did not lie.

“Mamae knows?”

“She didn’t, at first. I hid it from her until shortly before you were born. I thought I was - protecting her. She left when she found out what I intended. You weren't even born yet. I was so afraid I would not be there to see you take your first breath. In the end, she relented and talked sense into me.”

The spirits who took on their forms had wandered off. They were alone in the memory of the bedroom now. Ashara sat on the bed, longing suddenly for the home she’d grown up in: the wood floors and natural light, the scorch marks she’d made trying out spells, the murals she’d watched Papae make.

“For twenty years. For twenty years you were doing this in secret. With no thought of the consequences. Of what other people might want.”

“There are others within the council who know, though I’m not sure how much of the political intrigue you’d be interested in. It is a carefully guarded secret. One you must now keep without fail. You must tell no one of this. No one, Ashara. You understand how it would look.”

Ashara had never felt the air leave her lungs so quickly.

“How it would look? Papae - I don’t just know how it would look. I know what this _is_ . This is the reason people fear you. The reason they call you a villain, a madman. The reason I spent my whole childhood defending you. The reason I still have to defend you! I don’t just know how this looks. I know how the consequences of your actions _feel_.” Ashara’s voice was growing loud, the shapes of the bedroom trembling and wavering with the force of her anger as the dream began to warp. “Falon'Din possessed me, Papae. I thought I was going to die. I thought I was going to watch you and Claudia and Lucius die. I felt his hatred and his anger and his desire for revenge like it was my own. I felt like I was being torn in half every time I tried to stop him. And the whole time I was blaming myself for being weak and stupid enough to let him get ahold of me - but it was your fault. Because you still can’t let the past go.”

“Do you think I have not spent the hours since I heard that monster’s voice coming from your mouth in agony, da’len? I can never undo what happened to you because of my actions. I began to alter the Veil to give you the world you deserved, not to relive the past - but now…”

“So stop,” Ashara said. “Undo it. Destroy the orb and never look for another. I have seen the world you’re trying to bring back. I don’t want it. I don’t want to live the rest of my life in fear that this could happen to someone else. I don’t want a father who lies and expects me to lie for him. Who makes these decisions that affect hundreds of thousands of people without considering what they want. I want you to be the father I always thought I knew.”

And with a swift pull she called on her own flurry of memories of the place - late night stories in that very room when she was small and shouted arguments in the other room and whispered forgiveness the next morning when she was older - practicing spells in the garden and asking for help with her studies - running to him when she was hurt or when she found a new flower outside or when she wanted to know why the world worked the way it did - she shaped the Fade around them until the feeling was unmistakable. This was the center of her being, the place from which any strength she could claim flowed. Her home. He was an inextricable part of that: from the childish awe she felt towards him when she was small, to the renewed respect she felt for him when she was older and knew the truth of who he was. Then she turned eagerly to him to see the disbelief in his eyes.

“Well?” She asked, when he was silent. He opened his mouth twice before he finally spoke.

“This is a legacy I never thought I would have.”

“So take it. Live up to it.”

“It is something to think on,” he said at last, quietly.

Ashara wondered if someday she would be able to think about things so carefully. To leap only after consideration. She hoped so. She knew she would need to think on this. She knew that there was still a tear in her chest when she thought about what he’d done. Something that would need mending, like so much else now.

“Maybe we can take three days,” she said.

“An excellent idea,” he replied.

For the rest of the night they sat there, watching spirits reenact scenes of their past, happy and sad, painful and joyful, silent and yet connected by the things they shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have thrown everything but the kitchen sink at you guys in this chapter. Sorry?
> 
> So I was scrolling through and noticed a note I left on chapter 5 way back in the day predicting that we had only 7 chapters left. Let’s all laugh together at how wrong I was! I hope you are all still enjoying the ride - I constantly feel like this is getting too long! That said, I am now fairly confident that we have around 5 chapters to go. If there’s something you really want/need to see play out before the fic ends, let me know! I am a sucker for suggestions and will pretty much always try to work them in around what I already have planned.
> 
> Next chapter: Ashara delves into what they need to do to save Ellana, and plans are made.


	23. The Price to Pay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standard “I feel like I’m terrible with lore/meta in this fandom” disclaimer goes here. For the life of me, I can’t figure out where I picked up the idea that vallaslin were enchantments that bound slaves to their masters, but I am 99.9% sure I didn’t come up with it. So someone is due credit for that one, and it isn’t me!

Ellana knew it was hard for Ashara to do nothing. She was in constant motion: talking, eating, studying, wondering, pacing, playing with magic, often in any number of combinations. It was difficult to watch her for three days, trying to find stillness, even if she spent most of the second day out of sight.

Ellana was nothing if not still in those three days, and not by choice. Her trek through the Crossroads to Oruvun took its toll on her tired body, and her muscles and joints ached all three days - and that was without the burn of the magic under her skin. Or the thought circling through her own mind:

_What if that was the last time I’ll ever leave Skyhold? The last time I’ll ever smell the woods?_

But nothing mattered quite as much as the little smile on Ashara’s face when she saw the cake they had after dinner that third night.

“Sweetness for my sweet girl,” Ellana said, loudly kissing her daughter’s cheek, uncaring that anyone else was there.

“Mamae,” Ashara whined, her eyes jumping to Claudia and Lucius in embarrassment. But she was still smiling. Solas smiled too, and for just a little while, they all forgot.

Like clockwork, on the fourth day, Ashara was knocking at their door at dawn.

“Tell her to wait?” Ellana mumbled into her pillow. Solas hesitated before responding.

“Yes.”

They were too far away from Ellana to hear their conversation, but Solas’s eyebrows were drawn together in a familiar shape when he returned.

“And?”

“I don’t think she slept much. She may have taken your three day suggestion rather literally and waited for midnight, and then started her investigation. She’s also still -” He raised a hand in a futile gesture as he searched for the right word. “Distant. From me.”

Ellana let out a slow breath. Not a good morning. Everything ached. Her back was one large throbbing mass of pain. And her chest ached, too, thinking of the conversation that waited for them now. Solas told her of his conversation with Ashara in the Fade. Her anger that they’d tampered with the Veil, whatever their intentions. Her absolute demand that all such tampering cease.

“These things will all take time, love,” she said.

“Once she has an idea in her head, she doesn’t let it go. You know this. If we cannot - will not - undo what has been done to the Veil…”

Ellana knew she should sit up and talk through this, plan what they could say and do to fix it, but the only sound that escaped her was a gasp of pain. Sharp, brilliant, blinding pain, she would have sworn she could taste the bitter-bright tang of lyrium and Fade in her mouth as the pain grew, and every bone and vein and muscle hurt and she just wanted it all to _stop_.

Then a different magic flooded her, cool and familiar as the touch of rain. Solas’s magic. They were both his magic, she had to remind herself - the one that devoured and the one that saved.

“Peace, peace, peace, I have you.” He did have her, one long-fingered hand warm on her chest and the other on her back. The pain receded. His eyebrows were still drawn together, and his lips were still pursed.

“I’m fine,” she said, reflexively. “Come back to bed. Stay with me a while.”

Solas shook his head. “It’s just as well that I’m up. I should have reports from agents in Oruvun by now confirming that we were not sighted while we were there. I don’t like that this new potion didn’t last the whole night for you, either. You shouldn’t be in such pain now. I should see what can be done with that. And I can hear of the plan from Ashara first - you know she won’t want to wait long - and you can rest.”

He dressed as he spoke, quick and efficient and miserable all at once. Ellana sat up to watch him. It occurred to her that in her rush to care for Ashara, to see her through this trauma, she had not paid careful attention to Solas, and what he was feeling. She thought back through the last four days. He’d been numb in the temple by the time it was over - numb afterwards - and single-mindedly focused on the same thing she was once they were back in Skyhold. He was the one who witnessed the true horror of what happened - who had to fight Falon’Din in Ashara’s form. When had he taken time to process any of it?

“I would rather you stayed,” she said finally.

He paused.

“I would rest better if you did,” she pushed.

He relented.

But relenting only got him as far as sitting on top of the covers at her side, while she rested her head on his lap, and one of his hands massaged her shoulder idly. He was not relaxed, not focused on the motion or on her. He was still running through the list he’d spoken aloud in his mind.

“We haven’t talked much since that day in Oruvun,” she said, knowing he would know what she meant. There was a gulf of difference between talking about plans for the day, strategizing over what to say to Claudia and Lucius, worrying about Ashara, and speaking the way they had that day. Laying bare the wounds, new and old, the last few days had opened.

“No,” he replied, his hand going still.

Of course, now wasn’t the time either, was it? Not when she was tired and still aching a little, despite the effects of his magic, and not when there were things - important things - that he should attend to.

“Later,” she said. “We should.”

“Yes,” he said. “Later.”

She was reminded, too, as she drifted back into sleep, that there was a gulf of difference between the way he leaned down and kissed her cheek before leaving, and the way he’d kissed her weeks before. The night he took her in front of the mirror. That it was not insignificant that it had been so long.

Ellana breathed in deep, and began making a list of her own.

*

Solas had passed the last four days like a man underwater.

He could see the shapes of the people above the water, feel the pulse of his own blood in his veins, the emotions that rose and receded like tides. He was trying to swim but the currents pulled him in too many directions at once. His lungs burned, but he couldn’t come up for air yet. Not until he got what he dove down for in the first place.

It never got easier to see Ellana in pain. And then to see Ashara looking sleepless, worried, desiring his council and yet afraid of him now because he was, as always, a liar…

He knew he had his own pains. He knew he was running out of air. He knew the comfort Ellana was offering him that morning and wanted nothing more than to lay down his burdens at her feet, to stop trying to fight the currents of guilt and duty and let her carry him for a while - but it wasn’t time yet.

So he stayed underwater, his own needs a hundred feet above him in the bright sunlight, and kept pushing forward.

Solas didn’t even feign surprise when Ashara came and found him in the rookery, where he was writing. Or that she slunk in, doing her best to keep her face guarded - and succeeding rather well, he had to admit. If it were not for her posture - shoulders raised up carefully, hands clasped too tight in front of her - he might not have guessed her discomfort.

_Watch your body language_ , he might have told her, if he was in the business of teaching her how to lie. Instead he wanted to tell her to drop any pretense of the lie, and be the guileless daughter he’d raised. He wanted to tell her that she did not need to look so ill at ease, that they would find a way past his revelations. That he would be the father she showed him in their shared dream.

“On dhea,” he said instead, returning to his writing.

“On dhea,” she said. “Is Mamae well this morning? No one answered when I went back.”

“She is sleeping, I hope. She - was not well when she woke. We should let her sleep a little longer.”

Ashara moved closer to him - but not so much closer that she could see what he was writing.

“Am I allowed to know what you’re writing?” There was an edge in her voice.

“It is simply a reply to an agent of ours who wrote to me confirming that he hasn’t heard anyone in Oruvun remarking on our presence. It seems we were undetected.”

He turned in time to see her nod.

“I hear you talked to Claudia and Lucius. Made sure they knew exactly what to say and what not to say.”

“Yes. We must hope that they are true to their word. If they breathe a word of what happened to the wrong person in Tevinter, the damage could be incalculable.”

“They won’t. I’m sure of it.”

He wanted to believe the confidence in her tone.

“I hope your trust is well founded,” he said.

“It is. I’m -” She hesitated. “I was going to say again that I was sure of it, but I suppose I need to learn not to be so sure of things. I truly believe that they will not say anything, Papae. They would not want to hurt me, or anyone else in Enasan.”

He still remembered vividly, of course, the first time she walked. He felt a ghost of that feeling now, looking at her downcast eyes: pride and grief alike. She was learning, and yet he would miss her brash confidence, her exuberant belief in the good of all things, in her ability to be a force for that good.

“It’s been three days,” she said. “I went through the memory last night. The one he showed me. The ritual. We should talk about it. Or perhaps I can show you in the Fade, instead. I brought my beads.”

She opened her hand to reveal the leather cord and smooth, round stones he’d had made for her, the ones she used to aid her meditation. She didn’t really need them anymore, but said she still found them comforting. He found he had to agree as they both settled into the nook where there was a statue of Andraste. The sound of the beads clicking as they slowed their breath and eased their minds brought to mind a hundred nights doing just this, sitting on the floor of her bedroom, practicing ways to ease her lucid transition into the Fade.

His own mind went with ease, and when his mind crossed the barrier, Solas was at once surrounded by sights, sounds, scents, feelings he recognized from Elvhenan - the ever present hum of magic filling him from his toes to the crown of his head, the veilfire torches everywhere, the music enchanted to play on and on forever, the metallic scent of blood -

Ashara had dropped them straight into the memory. It was that present on her mind. Maybe she hadn’t even been able to control how quickly they dropped into it.

It sickened him, as he gained his bearings, to see the detail she wove into the dream. That was only possible because this was now as real as one of her own memories. He thought he recognized this place as he looked around - one of Falon’Din’s more impressive homes, though they were in one of the smaller chambers. The scent of blood was growing stronger and he turned to find the source - but now the dream was hazy, every line jagged instead of smooth, the music disjointed and dissonant, colors flashing wildly and then fading. A hallway stretched before him, growing endlessly longer - it twisted wildly - all he could smell was blood. Then the hallway grew impossibly tight and they were trapped. Ashara - she had to be losing control of the dream. It was cold now, despair flooding in. Everything grew smaller still and then larger and then the music was nothing but shrieking - he turned to find her but she was gone - and then so was the dream. Before something else could form in its place, he opened his eyes to see the rookery once more.

“I’m sorry,” Ashara said at once. She was standing up, not far from him, digging the nails of one hand hard into the arm of the other. Her breath was shallow. “I thought it was going to work. It worked earlier. I had to try six times last night to make the memory stay without panicking but I thought since I made it work before it would just keep working -”

“Easy, easy. There’s no rush -”

“But there is! We already wasted three days. I was supposed to be better now.” She let go over her arm, balled her hand into a fist, and struck it hard against the railing in the center of the room. The crows above her cawed and shuffled anxiously at the sound.

“Your mother was not being literal when she said that you needed to wait three days to feel better, da’vhenan. She -”

“Don’t call me that. I’m still -” She sighed helplessly. “I don’t know what I feel about you right now. I’m still thinking about what you told me.”

His stomach twisted at the rejection. It was the first thing he’d ever called her, actually. Before ever saying her name out loud. When the midwife placed her in his arms he looked down and thought _da’vhenan, little heart, another person who carries a piece of me wherever they go_.

“Ashara, these things take time. You shouldn’t push yourself.”

“I knew it would take longer than three days,” she said finally. “I just - hoped.”

It was easier, he thought, when she was small. The hurts were easier and so were the cures. She used to run to the circle of his arms but now she propelled herself away from him, and he found he didn’t know how to bridge the gap - how to protect her when she wanted so fiercely not to need protection.

“How long do you think it was?” Ashara asked after some time had passed. “How long do you think he had control of me in the temple?”

_An eternity_ was the first foolish, emotional answer that crossed his mind.

“It is hard to say. While you were awake and fighting him? It can’t have been more than an hour.”

She took a deep, centering breath. Then spoke again.

“I don’t want an hour to define the rest of my life.”

This - this he had the right words for.

“It won’t. It is impossible. You are too strong for anything else. You are already so much more than what happened to you, da’len.”

“I’m not a child,” she said, though there was no bite in the words. Just the instinctive response she’d had to the word since she was twelve, and suddenly felt that she was grown because she was tall and clever.

“No. But you are _my_ child. And you came into this world as fierce and strong as any person as I have known in my long years - and I know that this will not define you.”

She looked at him for a while after that, searching for something in his face. He reached out with a comforting brush of mana against hers, trying to show with magic the force of what he felt. How proud he remained of her, no matter what had happened. She returned the gentle touch, her own mana still buzzing with anxiety. Then she took another breath.

“Let’s go,” she said at last. “I will show you how we can save Mamae.”

*

It was lunchtime when they gathered in the private dining room on the main floor of the keep. Ellana sat at the table feeling tired, all her senses numbed by the latest potion Solas had brought her. Ashara didn’t look much better, even though she assured her mother that she’d taken a nap just before coming down. Ellana was almost surprised that there was no question as to whether or not Claudia and Lucius would be included - they were both there, as if they wouldn’t be anywhere else. But, they were all there, and there was nothing to do but begin.

“So the memory,” Ashara said after they’d eaten. “It was of two elves. Both slaves. One belonged to -” She hesitated before saying his name. “Falon’Din and the other to Andruil. He was draining the blood of Andruil’s slave and replacing it with the blood of his slave.”

“So it’s blood magic,” Ellana said.

“Yes. I know that’s not exactly reassuring,” Ashara said.

“It’s not exactly the kind of magic I’d want you dabbling in, but… I know I shouldn’t dismiss it outright.”

Bolstered, Ashara went on.

“It’s apparently a ritual Falon’Din used to steal slaves from other members of the Evanuris. Powerful enchantments - like the ancient version of vallaslin - linger in the blood, and by replacing the blood of a slave that did not belong to him with the blood of one who did, he removed the enchantment of the previous mage. We don’t have much like those kinds of enchantments now - but the magic killing you - Papae’s magic - isn’t from our time, either.”

“What happened to the slave giving the blood?” Ellana asked. She watched her daughter’s face carefully for any sign that the conversation was distressing her. Ashara only seemed nervous so far.

“Potions and magic restored their vitality as they worked,” Ashara replied. “They went slowly enough to prevent either person from dying before the ritual was complete. It took at least an hour or two of careful, sustained work. Sometimes they just... let the slave giving the blood die.”

“That’s a lot of work to steal one slave.”

“I doubt it was something he did en masse,” Solas said. “Which may be one reason I did not hear of it at the time. I’d imagine he did it with slaves or worshippers of particular importance to others. An act of pure spite. He must never have done it to one of Mythal’s people, or I would know.”

Ellana absorbed that information, her mind turning, searching for more questions to ask. She could see similar looks on Lucius and Claudia’s faces, but they said nothing as of yet.

“If the magic killing me is similar to vallaslin, why can’t you remove it the way you removed mine? The way you removed other slaves’?”

“Ashara is correct to say that this enchantment is similar to the vallaslin of old in that it is ancient and powerful, and at this point lingers in your very blood - but that is where the similarity ends,” Solas said. “Vallaslin were designed to bond with a living host - any living host. The magic you bear is fundamentally different in design - and it was never intended for anyone but me.”

It made sense. Ellana could never claim the level of knowledge that mages had of magic, but she’d done her share of study as Inquisitor, and now having lived alongside two mages for many years, she could see where his words rang true. But ringing true was a far cry from feeling safe.

“So if we do this - one of you will have to conduct the ritual, and one of you will have to provide the blood. Who will do what?”

“That is what we want to study further,” Ashara said. She was leaning forward in her seat and gesturing with her hands now - just as she always did when discussing something new she was learning. “I can - feel - the magic in a way that no one else can when I relive the memory. I know exactly how the ritual should feel when it’s working. I know the motions, the words - all of it. But Falon’Din did this in a world with no Veil. I will tire quickly, doing it here. So it may be better for Papae to learn the ritual, since he will not tire as fast as I will.”

“And who will give the blood?”

“It should be another elf, we think. We don’t want to risk doing something different than how Falon’Din did it. So if Papae does the ritual, it should be me.”

Ellana imagined it - lying still, bleeding with one hand and taking Ashara’s blood with the other. A reverse of what happened when she was in the womb. There was something poetic about that - but something terrifying, too.

“If something goes wrong, you could die,” Ellana said.

“Or you could,” Ashara replied, her voice even quieter. “Falon’Din did this to elves who were healthy, more or less. Strong. You…”

“I’m already weak.”

“That’s not the word that I would choose,” Solas said.

Ellana retreated into her thoughts again. She needed more information - and she needed to still the panicked beating of her heart, the tattoo that said again and again _not worth it, not worth it, my life is not worth risking hers_.

“Would this remove all of the magic, or would we still need the conduit that Ashara made?” Claudia asked in the silence.

“It is difficult to say,” Solas replied. “We would certainly keep what we needed for our first attempt on hand, in case this ritual alone did not suffice.”

Ellana nodded slowly. She was painfully aware of how they all watched her turn the information over in her mind. On one hand, she had the opportunity to _live_ \- on the other hand, if it meant any kind of risk to her family - and even if there was no risk to Ashara, it could mean the end of her own life - and was it better to go to that end with eyes wide open, or to wait many more months in agony…?

“I’d like to take some time to think,” she said finally.

“That is wise,” Solas said. “We need to study the ritual further, and practice the skills each of us would need to make it a success.” His eyes landed on Claudia, Lucius, and Ashara alike. “If we have the time now.”

They all agreed, and before long trailed out of the room, already enveloped in an animated discussion about whether or not they should practice controlling the flow of water first, or if blood would be fundamentally different, whether or not it was worth having all four of them practice if only Solas would perform the ritual, how many potions they might need, what kinds of healing spells stimulated the production of blood in a person’s body, which of them could summon spirits that could restart a stopped heart…

It was a long, quiet day for Ellana after that, spent considering every angle of the decision before her. It felt familiar, actually. Like when she had to take a day to consider how to resolve some particularly thorny Inquisition issue. She drummed up the energy to walk out to the garden and sit amongst the plants, most of which she could still trace back to those that she brought back on her travels. And she debated with herself, among them - not necessarily in words, but in feelings. She gave into the fear and imagined the worst possible outcomes - Ashara’s face pale and lifeless - Solas grieving at her own grave, or, gods forbid, at their daughter’s. She forced herself to imagine what it would feel like as her own blood drained away and another’s took its place. But she imagined the best, too, as she breathed in deep the smell of prophet’s laurel and arbor blessing and crystal grace - no longer feeling trapped in her own body, all the birthdays to come, traveling to see more of the world she’d had a hand in shaping, seeing her family whole and happy with no lingering shadow of sadness over them…

She thought, too, as the sun started to go down, as a kind Chantry sister brought her a shawl to ward off the cold and dinner from the kitchen, about what would happen if she simply said no. Ashara’s suffering would be for nothing. Solas would withdraw even further, trying to wall himself off from the pain, determined to do something to save her and yet forbidden from doing so. And they would all have to simply wait for her to die. No hope left.

So what would it be?

The thing she suspected few people knew about her time as Inquisitor was how few decisions she put into words before she said them out loud. Not that she didn’t agonize over them, or consider every possible angle - just that for her, the moment of decision was a wordless one. A feeling deep in her stomach. That was what she had that evening as she rose from the bench and went back into the keep in search of Solas.

She found him in the library, thankfully, and not in one of his more obscure haunts, though she had to say that she was feeling better than usual that evening, and might have been able to walk further. He had a variety of books open in front of him, and three more chairs were pulled up to the table carelessly - but Claudia, Lucius, and Ashara were nowhere in sight.

“Where are your students?” She asked, taking one of the chairs. Solas didn’t look up from his book.

“Claudia and Lucius cajoled Ashara into going to the Herald’s Rest to unwind after a long day. I assumed correctly that the invitation did not extend to me.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you scowling at them while they try to enjoy themselves might have been exactly what they were looking for,” she said with a chuckle.

“I do not scowl,” he said, irritated.

“Hold on - don’t change your face at all - I’m sure there’s a mirror around here somewhere -”

He rolled his eyes - but he also looked up at last.

“Are you well?” He asked, the question half reflex at this point. She could tell his mind was still elsewhere by the crease between his eyebrows. She wondered if he’d stopped frowning at all that day.

“I am. The new potion made me feel odd at first but I feel much better now. How did your studies go?”

“Well. The ritual is not terribly complex. It simply requires incredible control. I am equal to the task, though I do not have as much experience with blood magic as Falon’Din did. And the thought of having to use Ashara…” He shook his head.

“So it should work?” she asked.

“Yes. There are still several ways it could go wrong, but - yes. I believe we covered a variety of contingencies today.”

Ellana took a long slow breath, making sure the feeling of certainty was still there, and then spoke.

“Then let’s do it. The instant it seems like something could go wrong, especially if it could hurt Ashara, we’ll stop. But - let’s try.”

Solas watched her for a long moment, emotions she couldn’t quite put her finger on flitting across his face.

“I agree. We should try.” His voice was soft. Still worried. He drummed his fingers on the book in front of him - an uncharacteristically agitated gesture. “I’ll go down to the Herald’s Rest and tell them. We should wake early tomorrow and begin some exercises -”

“No,” Ellana said, quiet but firm. Certainty still filled her. “Let them have their fun. You should come to bed with me, instead.”

He was watching her again. Another drum of his fingers against the book.

“There was further reading that I hoped to do about -”

“Vhenan,” she said, just a little lilt to the word.

“I would not be able to focus, ma’lath. There are so many thoughts swirling in my mind. Perhaps tomorrow.”

It was what he said the next day.

And the next.

He woke every day and made sure she was comfortable and then he was off with the other three mages, working on what they would need. All Ellana could really do was rest, and eat as much as she could, trying to build up her strength. She did a few other things too, things she didn’t want Solas or Ashara to know about. She wrote letters for them, for her friends. Good-byes that she hoped were never opened. It was good, she realized. Good to have a chance to do this now. To not spend months waiting, wondering.

She got scared, now and then, looking out the balcony at the mountains and wondering if it was the last sunset she would see. Looking at Ashara and trying to imagine a world where her eyes never opened again, because she wanted to save her mother. But she dug deep and searched and still felt the heaviness of certainty in her gut, and found it still there.

It had been a week since their journey to Oruvun when they decided they were ready to try the ritual. They all resolved to go to bed early to ensure they would get enough sleep - they even gave Ashara a mild draught to ensure she would be able to rest - but as they all turned to go their separate ways, Ellana saw Solas still hovering over the table, rereading a page of notes yet again.

She looked at him, really looked at him. Shoulders tense, fingers drumming nervously. As handsome as the first day she saw him, and still carrying the world on his shoulders.

“Vhenan,” she called. “Come to bed.”

“I will soon,” he said, not looking up.

Ellana stood from her seat, rounded the table to his side, and held her hand out to him.

“I wasn’t asking,” she said. She wasn’t. Not anymore. Not knowing that the sunset she saw that day could have been her last - or the first of hundreds more.

He looked up at her. Drummed his fingers against the table once more. Then, with a little quirk of his lips that might have been a smile, he took her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m posting two updates for you today, because the next chapter is 100% Solavellan smut! It was going to be part of this chapter but it was long enough that I figured it would be easier to separate it out for the convenience of those of you who do not read such things :)
> 
> Thank you as always for reading, and especially for commenting! I love to know what you guys think of this story and what you would like to see before it wraps up.


	24. Held*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 100% NSFW - nothing but Solas, Ellana, and a need to connect for what may be the last time. The sex in this chapter is a bit rougher than usual, with some scratching (but no descriptions of blood) and orgasm delay/denial, so if that isn’t your thing, I would wait for the next update :)
> 
> Incidentally, as a couple of lines should indicate, this is not the first time they’ve done something like this, which is why there is no negotiation between them about safe words, etc.
> 
> I’m not normally one for music when I write, but this was written almost entirely with “Young and Beautiful” by Lana Del Rey playing in the background. It fits pretty well, I think.

Solas followed Ellana back to their bedroom without speaking. She walked with confidence, never once dropping his hand, though he could see her flinch a few times as she climbed the stairs. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that his blood was quickening at the way she’d demanded - a quiet demand, but a demand nonetheless - that he come with her. But looking around their room he saw a dozen things that drew his attention away from his pulse. Ashara had left the books he brought her on one table (and she was still so skittish, still having a hard time sleeping). There were glass bottles filled with various potions he’d been trying to make Ellana feel better (he would need to brew more of the latest version to give her before the ritual - or was it dangerous to give her anything additional?). He had a sudden thought about a healing technique that he really ought to write down for Claudia -

“Come here.”

He didn’t even realize he’d stopped walking, letting his hand slip out of Ellana’s. She was standing by their bed now, pulling off the long outer tunic she wore so that she was only in her undershirt and leggings. When he went to her side, she reached up and put her hand on his cheek, drawing him down so his forehead rested against hers. She held him like that, her eyes closed. Then she spoke.

“You have done so much. For me. For Ashara. I have not had the chance to take care of you. So let me, tonight.” Her words were soft, but her eyes, when they opened, were bright and focused in a way that made his spine tingle. It had been weeks, hadn’t it? It felt like even longer. He had the sense again that he was deep underwater, and that he still feared surfacing - feared facing all the emotions waiting in the fresh air - and of course he wanted this, wanted her, tonight of all nights - but it scared him, too. Because it could be -

No.

“Are you sure you are well enough?” He asked.

“Yes,” she said, pulling back and running her hand down the front of his own tunic to the belt around his hips, toying with the buckle. She held his gaze steadily - searching, he knew, for a sign that he was willing.

So he bent and kissed her. Her lips were still cold - so were her cheeks - she’d been outside before they all met to discuss the plans for tomorrow. She smelled like the garden and somehow that was what made him moan softly into the kiss - the familiar scent of growing things. Of life. He’d always associated it with her. She drew back from his kiss only to kiss him again, harder, sucking on his lip - a greedy kiss. She was guiding him, he realized, turning him - pulling off his belt swiftly, urging his own tunic up and over his head - and then with a push he was on the bed. He broke away and moved backwards towards the headboard, and she stripped off her leggings and smalls and followed, crawling over him - but without any of her former predatory grace. She was stiff, trying to hide a wince.

His heartbeat slowed.

“You are in pain,” he said, disappointment and worry warring in his chest.

“I know,” she said. “Take it away. Then make me feel you. Only you.”

“That may not be wise,” he said, as if he couldn’t feel his body stirring, the steady tightening between his legs.

“Do it anyway,” she said.

“You are being obstinate.”

“I know.” She said it calmly, like she was remarking that it was past midday. He knew this mood. She would not be denied. And why should she be?

A thought started to form. A dozen, actually. About why this wasn’t wise, that the physical rush of sex had caused the magic in her to flare up and hurt her before, about the amount of control the ritual would take, how he needed to be in control, always in control -

“Solas,” she said, taking hold of his chin, redirecting his gaze. “Take the pain away, and then let me take care of you.”

Or.

Or he could let go of control, just for now.

“As you wish,” he said, and his magic curled around her, set deep into her skin and muscles, right down her to her bones, numbing her. It was the sort of thing that didn’t last for long - but it would be long enough for this. He ran an experimental hand down her side and she didn’t react.

“Harder,” she said. He would have to be rough, if she was going to feel this.

He needed to feel this. Needed this with a force that took his breath away.

He’d been pushing forward for so long. Trying so hard. Not stopping to enjoy the very woman he was trying to save.

So he pulled off her thin undertunic and she was bare before him as she straddled his hips, he ran one finger down the middle of her body, between her small breasts, hard enough that it dented the skin as he went, that his blunt nail left a small mark in its wake.

“Harder,” she said, and after she trailed kisses down his neck to his shoulder she nipped him, not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough that he gasped.

He eased her away from him so he could stand and remove his own leggings and smalls and she looked at him with wonder, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. She reached between them and took hold of his cock, already thick with need, and stroked it. Not gentle. Already gripping tight, already making him shudder and groan at the sweet-sharp way it made his shaft throb.

“Good,” she crooned. “Don't come. Not yet. Not until I say.”

She kept going. Up, down, squeezing tight all the while, until he was rocking forward with her rhythm, so slow and deliberate.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” she said. Another long, slow stroke. He let himself groan and looked down to where her hand moved, her skin so dark against his own, even though the head of his cock was flushed with desire, the foreskin slipping back and forth over the soft flesh. His whole body followed each stroke the way a full moon pulled on the tide; he ebbed and flowed with each movement, felt his balls getting hot and tight, not ready to come, she went too slow for that, but moisture was pearling at the tip, and she stopped just to spread it, just to rub the smooth head round and round.

“Ma vhenan,” he sighed, and buried his hands in her hair, and felt himself starting to let go.

“Ma vhenan,” she called back, and then slid down onto her knees in front of him, to lick at him, to suckle softly at the swollen head, so soft after how hard she gripped him, the wave rushed up through his stomach and he choked out a sound and pulled away.

“I will not last.”

Her eyes darkened.

“You will.”

So she bent her head again and he pretended not to see the green glow of her back, and it was easy once her mouth was around him, swirling sucking lapping, her hand cupping him between his legs, pressing his balls close to his body, she licked and licked and he had to focus hard around the pulse of his cock, the pressure and heat building deep inside him, the desire to spill into her mouth. He sent a swift burst of ice through his veins and it made him gasp sharply but he was no longer about to come.

“Good,” she said, withdrawing, stroking him again, looking up into his eyes. Her hand stilled and she smiled. “I love you."

He let the words hang for a long moment and just looked at her through half-lidded eyes ( _my love my mate my home_ ). He was so lucky, and suddenly so afraid, suddenly unable to push away the thoughts of tomorrow.

“Ar lath ma,” he said, but his voice caught, and she saw in his eyes what he was thinking.

“Come here,” she said, standing.

He was on her in an instant pushing her back to the bed. Skin, so much skin, legs tangling, her warm chest pressed against his, her belly, wet curls against his shaft. He moved his whole body against her, drank in the smell of her, the smell he was always so sure he’d memorized but now he wasn't positive, and he had to be, had to be -

“Harder,” she reminded him.

He slid further down, took one nipple into his mouth and bit and sucked - then the other, when she gasped and grasped at his head, raking her nails over his scalp. It made him shiver all over. He slid down further yet, to the floor, pulled her to the edge of the bed so she was spread open, slick petals exposed for him to taste.

“Here,” she gasped, and guided him until he was pressing the flat of his tongue hard against her stiff pearl, and she rocked against him. It brought a sudden memory of the Hinterlands, a tent, the air thick still thick with dragon smoke, and her uncertain in his arms, blushing and murmuring _you don't have to_ as he did just this, showed her how good his mouth could be, how fast she could come apart. She was not uncertain now, didn't need to be told to take her pleasure of him. She held his head close and rocked and rocked and his nose filled with the rich scent of her, and he dug his fingers into her thighs. She didn't know the word _haurasha_ back then, and he’d explained it to her with his fingers wet from her cunt. Now her honey painted his chin and she whispered the word to him again and again.

“Fuck - I can't - it's -” She shivered once but it wasn't her coming, wasn't her curling up at the force of her pleasure. His head snapped up, and his magic flew out towards her. The magic in her back was ready to burst out but he shoved it away.

_Not now. Not ever. We will have this moment. We will have a thousand more._

She calmed a little, relaxing.

“Come here,” she said. He shook his head.

“I want to hear you sing for me.”

“I don't think it will work, ma’lath. Not like that. I told you -” She pulled on his shoulder, her nails catching the skin, until he was lying on top of her again, rutting against her heat. Then she sucked his earlobe into her mouth and bit down, making him arch and push his cock hard against that silken, yielding place.

“Harder,” she said again.

He wasn't even sure how they rearranged themselves. He was only sure that this was the only place he’d ever belonged. Lying at her side, kissing her, two fingers deep inside her cunt, working her, pausing only to thrust into the tight hold she had on his shaft.

“Ar lath ma,” she gasped between kisses, between high-pitched groans when his fingers hit that rough, firm place inside her. “Ar lath ma - don't come.”

He was swelling up in her hand again, slicking her palm. She squeezed roughly at his base until he hissed.

“Not yet,” she reminded him - and then, when he pressed his palm over her mound so she could grind against it - “Oh, oh, oh -”

Her cunt started to tighten around his fingers and he rubbed quickly over that place within her until her cry broke and her body clenched over and over around his fingers. His magic surged, blanketing her in warmth, in tendrils of energy that made her keen and keep coming, forcing back against the tide of foreign magic in her body, keeping it away.

_Not now. Let me have her let me have this - broken and beautiful and mine -_

She rocked against his palm through the aftershocks, her eyes hazy. He whined at the loss of her hand around him as she went slack. So hard, so ready - he didn't know why she was playing this particular game tonight, knew he could get out of it with a word - but he felt something building, something beyond the heat deep in his groin. Something in his chest, behind his eyes. Something he didn't want to name.

“Ar lath ma,” he said, drawing his fingers out of her, trailing them across her stretch-marked stomach, painting her in her own slick.

“Solas,” she said. It struck him, to hear his name on her lips. It was rare that she said it in moments like these. He was always _haurasha_ or _vhenan_ or _sa’lath_ when they made love. It stilled him. She ran a fingertip down from his temples, along his freckled cheekbones, to his lips, resting it there until he kissed it - and though her finger ran further down his torso, her eyes never left his.

“Solas,” she said once more, when her finger reached his navel, when her hand closed slowly around him. She pushed against him and there was a fumbling moment when she rolled him over as she lost her balance, but he caught her, and helped her kneel above him, and their hands met as they guided him to her slit. Then she pressed down slowly, her lips parting around his head, until he was enveloped completely, choking on heat and pressure and _good_ and _home_ and _mine_.

“Ellana,” he said, his voice a raw thing, his hands holding tight to her hips. She wasn't even moving and he was adrift, already too close, but bound absolutely to what she wanted. _Don't come, don't come_.

“Good,” she said, and the word made him shiver. “So good.”

She rolled her hips, never letting their bodies separate, just letting them move. He was deep, deep, deep in her, his head tilted back against the pillows, neck exposed like an offering. He tried to pull ice across the Veil to chill his blood but he was slippery, imprecise, distracted.

“Vhenan,” he said quietly. It wasn't his word, but his voice was pleading.

“Not yet,” she said. “Soon. Gods, Solas, how I need you -”

Now she rose and fell, cunt tight and hot around him. He flexed his hips to meet her. He was feeling adrift again, his hands beginning to wander across her stomach and breasts and shoulders.

“I need to feel you -”

“Sit up,” she commanded, and he obeyed.

There was a brief moment that they were separated but that only made it better to drive back into her, hard. He was successful this time when he called the ice into his veins but this time it was pleasure-pain-pleasure deep in his balls, deep at the root of his cock, a delay but not a real reprieve.

“Vhenan,” he gasped again.

“Keep going,” she said.

She clutched at his shoulder, his collarbone, like he was the only thing holding her to solid ground as he thrust up into her and she came down to meet him, and then she dragged her hand across his chest in one hard swipe that made him gasp as his skin split open, the sharp sting so different from her softness around him, almost enough, his cock throbbed inside her, but she’d said not yet -

“All right?” She asked, looking down between them, at the blood welling from the cut.

“Yes,” he said, though he hardly recognized his own voice.

“Good. You should keep it. In case.”

And with those words, she named the dark formless thing that sat in his heart, heavy behind his eyes.

_In case this is the last time._

“Vhenan,” he said, and his voice broke, and the next word was a sob. _“Please.”_

“I have you,” she said as she ground herself against him. “Now let go.”

Solas turned them and pushed her onto her back, and held her hand above her head with one of his, and fucked her, snapped in and out like it would quiet the sobs escaping him, like he could again claim something that was already his. She wrapped her legs tight around his hips and told him what she wanted over and over (“Come for me, I have you, I have you, I want you to come, let go”) and he was so hard, so ready, that the first wave of his climax stole his breath, and somehow her hand broke free of his and he fell deeper into her and she raked her nails down his back and his whole body shuddered as he came. His pleasure welled up over and over, root to tip, root to tip, root to tip, his cock throbbing and throbbing, until he was certain there would be nothing left of him when he was done spilling it all inside her. And for a moment, there was nothing. Just her wet heat and her soft lips on his ear and the fresh scratches on his back. Just them.

“Hush,” she said, cradling the back of his head. “Hush, sa’lath. I still have you.”

He was still crying, though without tears. Just long, ragged breaths of relief. He was so loved. No matter what else happened, he was loved as he never thought he would be.

“Ma vhenan,” she whispered, and her feet smoothed down his calves as she dropped her legs to the bed. “Shhhh.”

He shivered. Then her hand went to his cheek, gentle and coaxing. He leaned into the touch.

“Solas?”

Ah. She wanted him to look up. So he did, to her lovely moon-gray eyes.

“Good?” She asked, running her hand down his cheek, to his chin. He nodded. “Let me hear it, ma’len.”

“Yes, ma’asha. I am well. More than well. I am...”

“Good.” She kissed his temple, his forehead, his nose, the corner of his lip. “You are good.”

He took her words and tucked them away inside himself. No matter what else happened, he was good.

He was still inside her, softening now, warm slick spilling out around him. He kissed her lips, opening his mouth against hers so he could run his tongue softly along hers. He pressed his hips forward once, twice more, making them both shudder, then withdrew as the kiss ended.

Ellana rose at that, and went to fetch the washbasin and cloths. She handed it to him and he heated the water, and she dipped one cloth in, and began to wash him slowly, starting with his smooth head, down his nose, carefully drying the tears on either side, along his throat, and down his chest, pressing carefully to the cut there. He held her hand and pressed it harder to the cut, enjoying the bright flash of pain, the reminder that this moment was real. Then she moved on to his stomach, his hips, the inside of his thighs, and finally his soft cock and tender balls, drawing a muted gasp from him.

She sat back on her heels, looking at him, and he drank in the sight of her: brown skin crisscrossed with the marks of the life they’d lived together, more real and more perfect than the first time he saw her. His Ellana. Then he guided her onto her back and got a cloth of his own, and ran it all over her body, from her throat to the swell of her breasts to the soft, sore lips between her thighs, cleaning their spend away, until she’d sighed and closed her eyes. Then he put away the washbasin, made sure their nightclothes and robes were nearby in case they were needed.

“Do you want me to heal you now?” He asked.

“In the morning,” she said. “Let me wake up sore.”

He slid under the covers. She slid under too, and wrapped herself close around him, and turned his face so she could give him one last, long kiss.

“Ar lath ma,” she said, her head on his chest.

“Ar lath ma,” he replied, his arms wrapped tight around her.

Then he slipped into sleep, safe, sated, claimed, ready to face the dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...well, I will go hide under a pile of blankets now.
> 
> Next week: the final ritual.


	25. Jagged Edges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super super brief smut in this chapter - if you don’t want to read it, stop at “The second night there was no wine to lull her to sleep” and start at the next section, which is only a paragraph or so down. Also, this is hopefully clear, but the first part of the chapter rewinds a couple of days to replay events through Ashara's eyes.

Ashara was still all jagged edges. Fine one moment, angry the next. Exhausted, but afraid of falling asleep. She knew she should be able to control the Fade and could hear its multitude of songs, but inevitably it slipped sideways, and she was in Arlathan, or back in the temple, or screaming in darkness without sound. And then if Papae appeared to soothe her she was frustrated, unsure of how to react to him, to the idea that this incredible risk her parents took was for _her_.

But there was hope now, hope that all of this wasn’t in vain - even if it was the kind of hope that made her queasy.

“I feared it would be blood magic,” Papae said when she was done showing him the memory.

“Is it safe?” she asked.

He sighed. “There are, of course, risks to consider. If one of us performs this ritual, it will damage our connection to the Fade, but that will heal. The true risk for a Dreamer lies in repeated or continuous use of blood magic. My real concern is for your mother, and for the person who must give their blood. If something goes wrong, if our control is not precise, if we do not balance taking blood with giving it… it could mean death. That said… it is our only option.”

“Thinking that way is what led both of us to go to Oruvun in the first place. Even when Mamae didn't want us to go.” Another jagged edge - she should ask for Mamae’s forgiveness for that. But she was angry at Mamae, too, still in disbelief that she had known all this time about the orb, that she was also lying...

“You are right. What is your opinion?” Papae asked.

Such a familiar question. A round edge and not a sharp one. He’d asked her that when she was five and wanted to know why the sun rose and set each day, and when she was sixteen and asking how it was that lightning could be channeled through a mage’s body while fire and ice could not. He still wanted to know what she thought, after everything.

“I think we should at least tell Mamae. She should decide. But - maybe we should have a plan first? We could ask Lucius and Claudia for help. We’ll need it.”

He hesitated, considering.

“I agree. I would be surprised if either of them objected significantly to blood magic.”

“Why, because they’re both from Tevinter?” She said, tartly.

“That does help,” he said, returning her tone. “But my main thought was that they both seem quite committed to this cause, and interested in the pursuit of new knowledge.”

Both humans were in the main hall engaged in a serious conversation in Tevene when they found them. Lucius’ eyes were shut, and he was pinching the bridge of his nose. Ashara wanted at one to kiss the line furrowed into his forehead, to run her fingers along his ticklish round ears until he laughed and batted her away (and what a change that was from how she felt only minutes ago in the rookery - how tiring it was to swing from one place to another). She settled for resting a hand on his shoulder when they approached. She could feel the tension radiating through him - but he did relax a little when he saw who it was.

“When you’re not busy, we’d like to talk to you,” she said.

“Of course,” Lucius said. “Just give us a few more minutes.”

She nodded, and then turned to her father: “Should we wait in the private dining room?”

They didn't have long to wait there, which was just as well, because Ashara could feel the question burning on the tip of her tongue every moment that she was alone with her father: _did you think about what we talked about? Did you write to anyone about reversing what you’ve done to the Veil?_ It receded once Claudia and Lucius arrived, and they explained their plan. They listened intently, not pausing for questions until they were done. Then Claudia spoke.

“We’re all going to have to know our weaknesses and strengths exactly. We’re going to have to balance healing potions, healing magic, lyrium for the mages who are working... it sounds like we’ll reach a point in the ritual where none of us can falter, or it could mean death.”

“You are correct,” Papae said. “The risk would be minimal to either of you, given the roles we envision for you. But the pressure is immense.”

“Have you asked Ellana what she thinks?” Lucius asked. He tripped over Mamae’s name a little, like he was nervous saying it.

“Not yet.”

“Is this something else you would want us to keep from Dorian and anyone else?” Claudia asked, her eyes locked on Papae’s. Ashara felt shame worm its way into her belly.

Papae’s eyes narrowed before he spoke. “It is something we will have to consider carefully. I don't fear Dorian’s judgment, but I fear what would happen if word got out that Fen’Harel practiced blood magic, even once. Rumor would quickly spin that out of control.”

“He would never tell anyone, Papae,” Ashara objected.

“Agreed. He has never done anything to harm our family, or to harm Enasan’s interests. I see no issue with telling him. But the knowledge must stop there. It is crucial that you understand this.” His eyes drilled first into Claudia’s and then into Lucius’s.

“Of course,” Claudia said after a moment. “We don't want to cause any harm.”

There were more technical details to discuss then, and of course they shared information with Mamae, and then they went to work out practical logistics, to test the parts of the ritual they were concerned about, and before Ashara knew it the day had passed them by.

“I think we’ve missed dinner in the hall,” Claudia commented. “What would you say to the Herald’s Rest, instead of going straight to the kitchens?”

Ashara tensed at the thought of so many people, so many gazing eyes. “I’m not that hungry, actually.”

“But you’re the one who knows everything good on the menu. At least come and help us choose something to eat.” There was a cajoling tone in Claudia’s voice, and Ashara found herself reluctant to refuse it.

“Very well.”

The Herald’s Rest wasn't as loud as Ashara feared it would be. It had a pleasant warmth and a pleasant buzz of sound. She liked places like this, she reminded herself. She liked to watch people and ask them questions and feel the hum of their energy. So she still enjoyed it. That wasn't changed by anything that happened.

“What do you want? I’ll go down,” Claudia asked after they found a table on the upper level of the tavern.

“Whatever you’re having,” Ashara said, rifling through her pockets and finding no coins. “Can I give you money later tonight? I didn't bring any.”

“No need. This round is on me.”

Lucius sighed at her words and pinched the bridge of his nose again. Ashara took his hand where it rested on the table once Claudia was gone.

“What is it?” She asked.

“It's just what we spoke of on the battlements two days ago. Nothing for you to worry about.”

Of course. Corix. That was probably why Claudia offered to pay for all three of them. To spare him the embarrassment of being singled out.

“There’s a solution. I know there is. Perhaps we could talk to Dorian -”

“Ash,” he said, putting his hand on top of hers so that her small hand pressed between his two larger ones. “It isn’t your burden to bear.”

She squeezed his hand. “But shouldn't we both help each other if - you know - if we want to be together.”

“I guess. I don't really know. I’ve never been more than an occasional lover to anyone before. But this is something I need to figure out on my own. I’ve lived on other people’s charity since I was twelve. It's the only reason I've had a roof over my head or new clothes to wear. I always thought I would get a patron on my own merit and I hoped that's what happened with Corix but since it isn't… I’ll find another way.”

Ashara frowned, and prepared to protest, but Claudia was already returning.

“Is he telling you the same nonsense he’s been telling me for the last two days?” Claudia said as she laid out the spoils of her journey: a bottle of wine, glasses, and a plate of meats, cheeses, and breads.

“Enough,” Lucius said, more of an edge to his voice than Ashara had heard before.

“Fine, fine,” Claudia said, pouring the wine. “Let’s all unwind a little. I promise only to talk about completely frivolous things, if both of you do.”

So they did: they looked down into the main floor of the bar and criticized the fashions of the patrons they saw walking in and out, dared each other to tell embarrassing stories from their childhood days, the dirtiest jokes they’d ever heard. One bottle of wine went quickly between the three of them, and halfway through the second Ashara found that her head was warm and heavy and fuzzy all at once with drink, and all the thoughts that had crowded her so closely for days were distant, in the back of her mind.

“We have an early start tomorrow,” Lucius reminded them when the second bottle was gone. “We should be going.”

They left, and the wine made it easy, natural to lean on him as they walked, her arm around his waist, her head leaning against his when she could.

“Are you going to fall asleep before we get to your room?” He teased after Claudia had said her good nights and they continued towards her own room.

“No, but I’m going to fall asleep the moment I lay down. It’ll be so much better than how it’s been the last few days.”

“Maybe you need a glass of wine a night, then.”

“Hardly seems like a good habit. Besides. It's not just falling asleep. It's staying asleep. Wine doesn't help with that.”

They’d reached the door to her room and she leaned back against it and he stepped closer to her and ran a thumb across one cheek.

“Would it help if you came and found me in the Fade? Could I distract you?”

“Maybe. I don't know if I could find you, or stay with you. I’m having a hard time with control right now.”

The thumb on her cheek stopped moving.

“Would it help if I was here when you woke?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” she nodded, and the wine was no longer the only reason she felt a little fuzzy.

There were logistics, of course, but all of them provided a welcome distraction. He went back to his room to get something to sleep in and she had to wait for him to return, and then there was a brief shuffling about as to who would sleep on what side, and how they would sleep, until at last they settled, Ashara on her side and Lucius behind her, so warm and safe it made her toes curl.

When she entered the Fade she felt his spirit at once, so near to her, she just had to pull on a few threads to unravel the layers that separated them and they were together, walking on the beach near Vyrantium, his little brother (always little, never grown) at their side.

Later the dream slid out of control but she woke up even before her father could reach her, and Lucius was no longer curled around her but sprawled out beside her, but that didn't matter because he was awake too. He didn't say anything. Just rolled back over and held her tight again until they were breathing in and out, in and out at the same pace. It happened twice more that night and each time he was there. It didn’t fix the panic, or the shame, or the fear that nothing would ever be the same anymore. But at least she was not alone.

The next day was taken up entirely in further study and practice - for Papae and Claudia, mainly. Papae would conduct the ritual - Claudia would be the primary healer - Lucius would be responsible for monitoring everyone and giving out lyrium and healing potions as necessary. For Ashara’s part there was nothing she could do to prepare but wait, and imagine the flow of blood leaving her veins and going into Mamae’s, the thought equal parts terrifying and bolstering. This was going to work. This was going to work. This was going to work. They were going to save Mamae, and one day at a time, she was going to feel more and more like the person she was when she left Skyhold months ago.

The second night there was no wine to lull her to sleep and she was restless, fidgeting, but Lucius was there again, and he put a hand on her hip and began to draw random patterns on her side, until she shifted and he drew the patterns on her stomach instead, until she put her hand on top of his and guided it further down her stomach.

“Would you - ?” She asked, her heart hammering, longing for something that would ease her, make her feel connected to someone else.

“Yes,” he said, hoarse, two fingers already pressing down where she wanted them, it was so easy to slide her nightgown out of the way, to hold her breath so she could hear the sound of the quick circles he made, to reach back and wind her fingers in his hair and tug and hear him gasp and feel him rock his hips forward, to whisper _there there there_ when all the pressure built up in a sweet wave low in her belly and she shivered through her release. And it was easy, too, to roll over and reach for him where he was hard, to drink in the gutted sound he made when she wrapped her hand tight around him and began to move, when he hastily pulled his shirt out of the way so he could spill his own release on his stomach as she stroked him through it. And it was easy to lie there face to face after he cleaned up, skin cooling, eyes bright in the dark, their arms and legs twined.

_I want this_ , she thought to herself. _I want him. And not just for moments like these._

The second night it happened four times. Four times she saw everything she didn't want to see: Mamae’s body, pale and drained of blood, her father ordering the death of innocents to deal a blow to his opponents in war, her own hand wielding the flame that burnt the templar in the veridium mine alive, and forced herself awake. Each time Lucius was there, a silent reassurance that maybe, someday, with Mamae healed and the nightmares gone, things would be good again.

*

A week after they returned from Oruvun, they were ready.

As ready as they could be.

Ashara was more nervous than she had been when they were preparing to try the conduit. She woke to a sense of dread and not anticipation. She forced herself to eat but all the food was somehow tasteless. She watched as they practiced all the skills they would need once more but it felt like she was watching some distant memory in the Fade. She jumped at small sounds and sudden movements. She was nervous enough - and the circles around her eyes were pronounced enough - that before they all parted for the evening, Papae gave her a draught to help her sleep.

They left the private dining room then, leaving Mamae and Papae behind, and though the three of them had initially planned to just go to bed, they found themselves sitting on the steps to the keep, looking up at the stars.

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” Lucius asked. He’d been looking at her sideways all day, searching for something.

Ashara shook her head, swallowed down the knot in her throat. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Very well,” he said.

They were quiet after that, a companionable silence, though Ashara still had images dancing in her mind, images of what could be.

“I guess this is it,” Claudia said after a little while. “Our last attempt. One way or another, we’ll be back on our way to Tevinter soon - unless Dorian actually loses his mind with worry and flees the Magisterium to meet us here. He’s considering it, you know.”

Ashara laughed quietly. She could picture it. He would show up in the keep railing about the muddy road up the mountain, the terrible food, the inconvenience, the fact that they would draw and quarter him when he returned to Tevinter because such and such measure was currently under debate and he was a chief sponsor and he’d just up and left… but he would also hug her tight, and then hug Mamae even tighter, and demand to know what spells Papae had been using and why he wasn’t consulted.

Or he would come wearing black, to bid good-bye to the woman who’d been his best friend.

Ashara drew her knees up to her chest.

“It’s hard. Not telling him about Falon’Din,” Claudia admitted then. “He’s been like a father to me for so many years. I hate lying to him.”

Ashara lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry you have to. I don’t like it either. I don’t know why Mamae and Papae are so insistent about not telling him the whole truth.”

The wind picked up briefly, and when it died down, Claudia spoke again.

“Do they know what kinds of elven magic are leading to the instability of the Veil in Enasan?” she asked.

“Yes.” That was the truth, at least. Ashara didn’t have to think about that answer.

But Claudia leaned forward, frowning.

“Well then… what is it?”

Ashara rubbed the back of her neck, wishing she was a better liar, wishing she didn’t have to lie.

“Just - the overall use of ancient rituals, I suppose. Lots of reawakened Elvhen doing things the way they were used to before. And there’s always been strange magic in the Arbor Wilds.”

“So how will your parents be sure that people will stop using such magic? How can Enasan enforce something large scale like that? And how do we know it won’t spread?”

Ashara’s nails dug into the back of her neck now.

“They just… do. Trust me.”

Silence. Claudia stared hard at her, hazel eyes narrowing. Lucius shifted, and then put his hand on Ashara’s knee.

“I do. Trust you,” he said.

Claudia just nodded.

Ashara felt that trust like a brand the rest of that evening, searing hot against her heart. _He trusts me, but I am not telling him the whole truth. I don’t even know if they will stop what they’ve started._ When he walked her to her room, an arm draped comfortably over her shoulders, she pulled away from him, because he was the source of that brand. _Can I keep walking down this road, knowing I can’t tell him?_

“We should both be well-rested tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll sleep alone so I don’t wake you. The draught is enough to help. I promise.”

Lucius frowned a little, but then he kissed her goodnight and wished her pleasant dreams and went on his way.

Ashara lay in bed that night waiting for the draught to take effect and wondered if this was what it would feel like when she bled - this soft, slow descent into darkness. She wondered how Papae slept all those nights, knowing he was lying to Mamae. Her eyes slid closed. She slept.

*

The next morning it was a series of knocks at her door that woke Ashara. She went to the door and was surprised to see that it was her mother, still dressed in her robe, which made her look fragile and relaxed at once. She was carrying with her a small tray with tea, secured carefully against her body with her good arm.

“On dhea. Where’s Papae?”

“Still sleeping, for once,” Mamae said, entering the room and finding a place to set the tray down. Her eyes lingered for a moment on the pile of clothes Lucius had left behind, and Ashara’s heart ached to remember the day before, but neither of them said anything. “I wanted to let him rest. I thought I would come to see you alone before we get underway. Tea?”

“Yes, please.”

They sat awhile in silence by the narrow window in the room as it slowly filled with the light of morning. Ashara only sipped at her tea, but she was grateful for the warmth of the cup in her hands, the way it steadied and calmed her.

“You can change your mind if you are afraid, Ashara,” Mamae said finally. “No one would think any less of you.”

Ashara sat up straighter at the words, as if sitting up straight would show that she was not afraid. But there was no point in trying to hide that feeling. Not from Mamae.

“You’ve come close to bleeding out before, haven’t you?” She asked.

“Yes, once or twice,” her mother replied, taking another sip of her tea.

“What does it feel like?”

Mamae put her tea down on the tray and readjusted her robe, playing with the collar. “It feels - like floating, almost. You feel impossibly light. Dizzy. It gets hard to breathe. Your thoughts stop making sense. You just want to drift off and sleep. Of the ways I’ve almost died, it was a rather peaceful one.”

Ashara nodded. “It doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It won’t happen to you today,” Mamae said, voice firm with certainty. “I won’t allow it. The instant you start to feel too weak or too dizzy, Lucius will give you a potion or Claudia will heal you. You will not die today. I don’t care what else happens.”

Ashara took a breath and let it out slowly. Mamae put down her tea and rested her hand on her knee.

“Are you afraid?” Ashara asked a minute later.

“Yes,” Mamae said, quietly. “But I have faith in your father. In your friends. In you. So I have hope, too.” The hand on her knee went to her chin now, turning her face. “No matter what happens today, you succeeded. You found a way to save me. Know that, Ashara. Be at peace.”

Ashara nodded once more. She did feel something like peace steal over her then, in the still morning light, at her mother’s side, waiting to embark on the unknown. It wasn’t the peace that came with knowing the outcome, or even the peace that came with the absence of pain. It was the peace of being loved, of being home, of knowing she had done everything she could, and that now all she could do was see it through.

They met as before in the lower part of the keep, and as before in silence. This time they’d moved cots into the small, dark room, along with a table covered in carefully organized implements: the various potions, medical supplies, and the conduit they’d created before all of this. Lucius kept checking and rechecking all of them, Ashara saw, while Claudia and Papae were warming themselves up, awakening and aligning their mana. She and Mamae were sitting on their cots. Waiting.

“Are we ready?” Mamae asked at last, when Lucius had counted the bottles for the third time, and Claudia and Papae were running out of breathing exercises.

“Yes,” Papae said.

“Then let’s begin,” Mamae said, lying back. Ashara did the same.

It was Papae who took the knife and slit Mamae’s right wrist, carefully allowing the blood to drain into the large bowl they’d left down there to collect it. Their eyes locked on each other’s while he did it, and lingered even after, as did his hand on her wrist. Then he raised his other hand and reached for the power within the blood, so he could control its flow. Ashara shivered at the way the magic in the room changed. It didn’t feel like when a mage reached across the Veil (that sharp tug and then the flow of power slipping in), or when a mage’s mana was low and they were running on lyrium alone (the fast burn of it, the near frantic vibration of a spell being forced). Instead it was a subtle disturbance, a deep hum she could feel in her chest, like the warning growl of a threatened animal. She’d felt it when he practiced this on himself the day before, but now it was real. Now it would not go away until they were done.

Now she could already feel the memory of Falon’Din doing exactly this, the way it felt when _she_ ( _not me, not really, it was him_ ) was the one calling on that most ancient power.

There was tense silence at first. Claudia standing at the ready, cool magic gathering around her as she prepared to heal, Lucius standing by the table, his hand resting near one of the potions. They needed to let Mamae bleed a little before they began to replace her blood. Papae was counting the moments in his mind, his eyes flickering between the bowl where it gathered and Mamae’s face. She offered him a small smile. He did not return it.

“Ashara,” he said, when he let Mamae’s wrist go. She offered her wrist up to him and he held it tight for a moment, looking down at her. She wished she had a smile to offer, like Mamae’s, but instead she just nodded, and let the power of her own magic swell within her so that he could feel it. The strength of her resolve. He raised the knife and quickly slit her wrist.

It burned and she hissed - and at once a gentle wave of healing magic flowed out from his thumb towards the cut, soothing. She settled into the awe of watching him - how with that one touch he eased her pain, and with another gesture was still focusing on Mamae where she bled, and now with another he took control of the flow of her own blood and began to guide it. She could feel the magic singing in her veins, awakened by the way he called on it, and she shivered.

“Are you well?” He asked, catching her shiver. She nodded.

“It feels strange.”

He returned her nod. His eyes were narrow with focus, his shoulders and stance deceptively relaxed so that he would not exhaust himself, but his own power hummed anxiously around him, looking for an outlet. This was the challenge: to remain calm, even, in control, at every moment, no matter how much he wanted to rush, no matter how much he wanted to stop. Ashara thought she would panic once the ritual began, knowing that he held both their lives in his hands. But lying back and watching him, she was reminded of that sense of absolute safety she only dimly remembered from childhood, when he would carry her half-asleep from the living room to put her to bed. He would not fail them. There was no need to panic now.

Mamae reached out and closed her hand around Ashara’s, and pressed tight.

Ashara was startled by how subtle the feeling of losing blood was. She almost wasn’t aware of it, though maybe Papae had numbed the cut enough. Lucius had to speak up a few minutes in to remind her to check in with him on how she felt.

“Fine,” she said.

“Try lifting your head,” he replied. When she did, she saw at once what he meant. How was it so light and so heavy all at once?

“I’m a little dizzy,” she said.

Claudia stepped closer and rested her hand on Ashara’s shoulder, and began to send waves of healing energy through her. She was briefly overwhelmed by the sensations - the burn in her blood of Papae drawing on it, her own magic expanding and contracting with the force of her nerves, and then the tingle of Claudia’s magic, trying to help her rebuild the blood she was losing. Her chest and throat tightened.

“Easy,” Claudia reminded her, even though there was a fine tremble in her own hand. “Breathe through it.”

Ashara closed her eyes and did as she asked, squeezing Mamae’s hand tight.

“Ellana?” Lucius asked.

“I’m - uncomfortable. Not dizzy or light-headed, just -” She shifted uneasily. “It hurts.”

“Where?” Papae asked, the word clipped.

“Everywhere. Not a stabbing pain. Just burning.”

Ashara pushed past the sensations assaulting her body and dug through the memory once more, studying the faces of the slaves in her mind’s eye, the way they moved on the table.

“I think that’s normal,” she said finally.

“Tell us if it becomes too much,” Lucius said. “Claudia can numb you at least a little. We do still need you to be aware, though, in case something goes really wrong.”

More time slipped by in silence. Claudia withdrew, and when Ashara lifted her head now she was no longer dizzy. She dared at last to look down to where Mamae held her hand and see the cuts - one on her arm and two on Mamae’s, she missed them cutting the second somehow - to see where Mamae’s blood flowed out of one, and her blood flowed into the other. She lowered her head again, and closed her eyes and breathed.

They went on in silence for some time like that, no sound except for the steady drip of Mamae’s blood draining out and the occasional whisper of a spell being cast. Lucius helped her sit up so she could take the first few sips of a regenerating potion that would supplement what Claudia was doing. Mamae breathed through her teeth and held her hand tightly. Papae was utterly still, except for his own slow, deep breaths and the occasional gesture of his fingers as he wound the powers he needed around himself, directing the flow of their blood.

They were halfway through when the first attack hit Mamae.

She convulsed, dropping Ashara’s hand, but Papae didn’t let her hand fall away entirely, controlling it even as he continued to control her blood. They knew this might happen, discussed at length what to do, the plan sprang into action now (Lucius held her down, Claudia’s healing rushed towards her, soothing and restoring, all the while Papae was still, not even looking at her, his eyes boring into some distant point of the room) - and still Ashara’s heart beat too fast, still it hurt.

Mamae relaxed at last, her breaths short and shallow.

“The enchantment in your blood is strong,” Papae said quietly. “It is resistant, as before. It will hurt, from here on out.”

Mamae didn’t speak. Ashara took her hand again.

It happened three more times as the day went on.

They were in constant motion now. Lucius helped Ashara to sips of a regenerating potion and then darted back to Mamae’s side to help hold her still, to speak comforting words. Claudia stood swaying between them, alternately healing Ashara and trying to numb Mamae’s pain, and then Lucius darted away again to get lyrium to restore her. The room filled with the coppery smell of blood and Ashara closed her eyes and slipped into memories that were and were not her own - Lucius bleeding out after the wyvern attacked him, the first time she ever saw so much blood, and then a battlefield in Elvhenan, her enemy’s blood ( _his, his enemy’s blood_ ) hot on her ( _his_ ) hands, the sight of the gash in her shoulder in the veridium mine - she didn’t realize where she was right away when she took in the sight of Lucius’s face close to her own. She just reached up to touch him.

“Stay awake,” he said, catching her hand. “Don’t slip into the Fade. Tell me about -”

Then he was away, back at Mamae’s side where she thrashed and ground her teeth, slipping the leather-wrapped piece of wood between them and telling her to bite down on that instead, and Papae was still, still between them, his face shining with sweat, his breathing unchanged, his eyes shut tight.

“Halfway there,” he said, when Mamae stopped moving.

Mamae wasn’t seized by violent tremors anymore after that.

Instead her head lolled to one side. Instead she couldn’t keep her grip on Ashara’s hand anymore. Instead Claudia had to call on spirits to bring her back, again and again, to force to life into her body.

“Good, Claudia,” Papae said after he talked her through it a final time. “You’re getting better.”

His voice shook.

Claudia prayed, quietly, down on her knees but not from piety. She was out of breath.

Ashara tried and tried and tried to stay awake, but her blood burned, and the healing potions made her stomach churn, and she wanted to close her eyes so there was no chance she would see Mamae’s face, so close to death. So she slipped into the Fade again, only now it was a hollow place, no songs or strands of memory to cling to ( _the blood magic - I’m not a Dreamer, right now_ ), and she wasn’t sure what was real or what wasn’t - Mamae cold and lifeless, Lucius holding her face in both his hands, telling her to stay awake, Papae shouting angrily in Elvhen at a crowd gathered in the courtyard of the keep, a shimmering silver thread looping and twirling before her eyes that connected her to Mamae, Lucius again -

Lucius.

“Ashara, amata, we’re almost there, I need you to open your eyes, I need to make sure you’re all right - ”

His brown eyes filled her vision.

Ashara took a deep breath and everything burned.

Her blood wasn’t moving.

It was stopped in her veins.

Papae stood like a statue between them, arms raised.

“Ready?” Lucius asked.

Ashara nodded.

“Just look at me,” he said. “Look at me.”

She locked eyes with him, but she didn’t need to see Papae to feel what happened next - the rush of blood leaving her arm, so sudden it made her gasp, and then the audible snap of the connection breaking. Her heart pounded and panic flooded her as her body came back to itself. Lucius was saying something she didn’t catch. She pushed him away and sat up, head swimming, sparks in front of her eyes. Papae and Claudia were at Mamae’s side, she couldn’t see Mamae, the bowl between the cots was full of blood so everything was over, she needed to see Mamae -

“Stay still,” Lucius said, taking hold of her shoulders. “Wait.”

A frustrated sound escaped her. Papae and Claudia were speaking in low voices. Too low for her to understand. That was bad, wasn’t it? Why weren’t they celebrating?

“Lucius,” Papae called. “Help us move her.”

“Stay here,” Lucius said, his grip tightening on her shoulders, before he moved to join them.

Ashara reigned in her impulse to follow, watching as they rolled Mamae onto her side (she was so limp, why was she limp?) and Papae pulled her loose tunic aside to look at her back.

It still glowed with green energy - but wasn’t the area smaller?

It was.

It worked.

“We need the conduit,” Papae said. “The energy that remains has bonded with the flesh here and not just the blood. We need to remove it quickly before it seeps back into her blood and ruins what we have accomplished. Claudia needs rest so she can’t do the healing. It will have to be me. Ashara?”

Ashara had never moved so quickly in her life. She saw the fear in the other’s eyes but she knew she was strong, knew she was meant to do this, knew that this was the end of the long road, what everything else was leading to -

She didn’t even need Papae to start the energy flowing toward the conduit this time. It was there at her fingertips, already practically reaching for the conduit, almost like it was seeking safe harbor. This time there was no disturbance in her magic as she guided it, no sudden, sharp failure that left her gasping. She watched as it ebbed quickly away, as Papae’s glowing hands smoothed over Mamae’s dark skin, restoring it even as the magic dissipated. It was the work of a minute. The magic was gone.

Mamae’s eyes remained closed.

They laid her back down gently. Ashara felt her chest constrict.

“Why isn’t she waking?”

“We put her to sleep,” Papae said gently. “The pain was causing her body too much stress. She’ll wake soon. For now we wait.”

_That’s right. The waiting._

The chance - however small - that the ritual would not take, that her blood would not find a new home in Mamae’s body. That she would still, after all of this, never open her eyes again.

Ashara hated waiting.

She walked in a slow circle around the bed, once the bowl of blood was moved. Every now and then Papae tried to reach out to her with a comforting wave of magic, but his magic felt - wrong, now. It had the same heavy pulse as it had when he was enacting the ritual. The effect of the blood magic. She wondered how long that taint would last. Lucius caught her by the hip, at last, and pulled her down so she was sitting on the bed beside him. He kept his arm around waist.

“Just - stay,” he said. She took in how tired he was, though she could feel the current of his mana just beneath his skin, as alive and worried as her own. She blanketed him with her own magic, the way Papae used to with Mamae, when he decided to finally court her the way he always meant to. Lucius shivered at her side and looked at her with an eyebrow raised. She smiled, a tight-lipped thing, but a smile nonetheless.

Mamae woke.

It started with a slow shifting, and then a change in her breathing, and then a low groan as she raised her hand to her eyes, and then a quietly muttered curse word.

“Vhenan?” Papae said, moving closer to her.

Mamae dropped her hand with a sigh. “Ouch,” she said.

Papae laughed - a bright, clear, unforced sound, straight up from his stomach - and then without waiting for another word bent down and kissed her.

Ashara felt all the tension rush out of her body in a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

When Papae pulled back, Mamae laughed too, and then winced, and then laughed again.

“Everything hurts,” she said. “But not like before. It’s - it worked, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” Papae said. “It worked.”

Ashara closed her eyes and let herself drift from the sound of their voices, from the smell of lyrium and blood and sweat to a dark, safe place inside herself, full of jagged edges. This wasn’t the end of everything that happened. Not yet. But she could feel things inside herself shifting, growing smoother. She was beginning again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW.
> 
> One more chapter to wrap up some loose ends (still taking requests for anything you want to see/any POVs you feel the need for!) - and then perhaps an epilogue if anyone is interested in a small jump forward in time.
> 
> Thank you as always for reading! I will return to hiding in my pile of blankets now.


	26. Opening, Closing

Well, everything still hurt. Ellana couldn’t deny that she was a little disappointed by that when she woke the morning after the ritual. But at least it was a different sort of pain - the familiar pain of sore muscles and tired bones, of a body that had been put through too much. It was the kind of pain, she realized as she arched her back and stretched, that would fade with time.

_ I’m not sick anymore _ .

The words still didn’t feel real, so she rose from the bed, trailing her hand along Solas’s arm where it lay near her, and went to the mirror. She pulled off her shift and turned to examine her back. For the first time in four years, there was nothing there - just the expanse of her skin. She was still too thin, and there were new scars now where the green light once seethed - but this was her body again.

“I did what I could about the scars.” Solas’s voice was still rough with sleep. She turned back to face him.

“I suppose it was too much to ask that you try to fix my wrinkles while you were at it?” She asked. He snorted, and closed his eyes again.

“My apologies.”

“How did you sleep?” She asked, putting her shift back on with some effort, wincing as the muscles were stretched.

“Well enough, I suppose. It was - not pleasant, being unable to control the Fade.”

“How long do  you think it will take for you to return to normal?”

“Only a couple more days, I would imagine. A week at most.”

A couple of days. A week. They had so much time now. The thought filled Ellana with a giddiness that nauseated her. It was a feeling she hadn’t felt in many years - not since those first days in Enasan, staring at Solas in wonder, awed at the sudden gift they’d both been given. The gift of more time, and the burden of deciding what to do with it.

“Breakfast?” She asked, rifling around in search of clothes to wear.

“Later,” he said, his voice already growing softer as he slipped back into sleep.

Dressed, she kissed his brow and then went down. She could feel her muscles pulling with each step on the stairs, and even had to stand perfectly still on the landing for a time, lightheaded with her effort, but there was no longer a stab of pain with every movement. She could take a deep breath and feel her lungs expand without feeling like her back was pressed against a stone wall.

_ I am alive. _

She wanted to run through the hall to the kitchen - no, out of the hall, down to the courtyard, across the drawbridge, out into the snow, up to the nearest peak so she could scream the words:  _ I am alive _ .

Considering that she wobbled through her first steps in the hall and had to catch herself on the back of a chair, she decided against it. But the impulse was still warm in her blood - the same impulse that would send her sprinting away from the aravels and through the trees when she was young, until finally one day her Keeper shook her head and said “If she’s going to go running off at every opportunity, we might as well put a bow in her hands.”

Was it her blood now, or Ashara’s? At what point did it change? Would it?

She should go check on her daughter in any case.

No, food first. Her hands were shaking.

She ate in the kitchen, to the amusement of the cooks, because she couldn’t fathom taking a single step away from the food. Was it her imagination that it all tasted better now, or simply the lack of nausea? She felt a little less light-headed when she was done, though overall she was still weaker than she would like. She would have to start training again to build up her strength.

She knocked at her daughter’s door several times with no answer before she decided to open it and peek inside, prepared to slam it shut again at a moment’s notice. She hadn’t forgotten that she’d seen Lucius’s clothes on the floor when she went in the morning before, though that could mean any number of things. Perhaps there was a reason Ashara wasn’t answering.

The door opened to an empty room. It looked practically untouched since the day before - their tea was still sitting, cold, on a small end table. Had Ashara even come back the night before? Maybe she should check Lucius’s room…

There was no rush. She would find Ashara in time.

Ellana decided to obey her impulse to go outside, then, though at a much slower pace than she might have liked. She ambled out of the keep, pausing to massage her bad knee before heading down the steps to the courtyard, practicing taking deep breaths of cold mountain air. She catalogued things that needed fixing as she walked - broken paving stones, weeds, places where they might be able to add improvements. All the things she’d turned a blind eye to for months, because they were things she might not live to see completed. Cassandra had said that they could assist with the running of the keep, as long as they stayed. Would they continue to live here, or head back to Enasan, and the tangle of its politics, its trials and tribulations? 

She’d just turned towards the drawbridge when she saw a familiar figure crossing it - Ashara, wrapped in her favorite blue cloak, her head bowed. She didn’t even see her mother until they were near enough that Ellana called out.

“Good morning.”

Ashara’s head shot up and Ellana’s chest tightened at once to see the dark circles still in place around her eyes.

“Mamae, should you be walking around here? Are you well enough for this?” Ashara asked at once.

“I’m fine. I promise. What are you doing out so early?”

“I couldn’t sleep. The keep felt too - close around me. So I went outside.”

Ellana felt a little lighter at the words. It was so easy - at least for her - to see Solas in Ashara. However selfish it might be, it still brought her joy to see the little pieces of herself that she could recognize, like the impulse to take comfort in nature when all else was too overwhelming.

“Are you feeling fine after yesterday?” Ellana asked. Ashara rubbed her arms under her cloak and stamped each foot one at a time. She was drumming up the words, and when she spoke they came out in a flood.

“I know I should just be grateful that the ritual worked, and I am. I am so, so happy, Mamae. I couldn’t stop smiling when I fell asleep. But then I couldn’t stay asleep and when I did I couldn’t control the Fade and I just kept dreaming of all these things I didn’t want to dream of… and I woke up and I wasn’t as happy as I thought I would be. I was still worrying about… all these other things. What if I’ve just forgotten how to be happy?” She caught herself. “That sounds too dramatic, doesn’t it?”

Ellana shook her head. “We can’t always control how we feel about the things that happen in our lives. Even the good ones. What’s troubling you, da’asha?”

Ashara looked away, as if in shame. Then she glanced at the people around them, and walked back out of the keep. Ellana knew at once what that meant. She didn’t want people to hear.

“I’m angry at you,” Ashara said once they were far enough away. “And at Papae. About the orb. The Veil. I know I should just wait to talk about it. I should just enjoy the fact that we succeeded in saving you. But…”

Ah.

She knew Ashara knew, of course. But this was the first time it had come up between them.

“But what?”

“You were both lying all this time. My whole life. Doing something without stopping to think what other people might think of it. Doing it because of me, but not telling me. Breaking the law. And now I have to lie to people about it, too.” She looked down. “It’s not fair. And I know that life isn’t fair. I just - now that you are better I want everything to be better. I don’t know how to make the feeling go away. I don’t know how to just  _ wait _ .”

Ellana thought back to when she was nearly twenty. What had her own life looked like, up to that point? She’d lost both her parents and her newly bonded mate and many of the clan members she’d grown up with to illness when she was sixteen. She’d taken her vallaslin and become a full adult member of the clan, responsible for their survival on countless hunts. She’d wondered, too, if she would ever truly be happy again. She’d feared starvation, winter cold, illness, the cruelty of humans… She’d known, firsthand, in-depth, what the world was like.

And Ashara?

Other than her mother’s illness, other than the strain of having two rather infamous parents whom not everyone agreed with? What had Ashara suffered up until now?

Was if her own fault, as her mother, if she was struggling to cope with all of this? Had they protected her too carefully from the mess and chaos that was life?

“You will learn,” Ellana said at last. “Think how much better you already feel than the first day after the temple. It will take time, but you will learn. And I am sorry, love, that we lied to you. Just know that we didn’t keep knowledge of what was happening from you out of spite. You forget that with our positions within the council that there are many things we can’t share with you - or with anyone else - because you are an ordinary citizen of Enasan.”

Ashara nodded slowly.

“And you really think it’s best to keep weakening the Veil? Even now? Even after what happened?”

“It is something your father and I need to discuss with the other council members who are involved in the decision. We always knew the Evanuris would be a threat to this plan - we just need to reassess that threat.”

Ashara rearranged her cloak again, thinking, and trying to draw into herself.

“I don’t want to lie to Lucius - or Claudia or Uncle Dorian - about this,” she said, her voice tiny. “Especially not Lucius. I’ve seen the memories of how you felt when - when you found out about all of Papae’s lies. I know this isn’t as big, but… it isn’t small either. I don’t want to be the kind of person who lies.”

“Another reason we never wanted you to know. This should not be your burden. But think of it this way - you are keeping them safe, and yourself safe, by not telling them. You are protecting Enasan itself.”

“Isn’t that something Papae might have said? That he was only trying to protect you by not telling you? Trying to protect his people?”

The words pierced Ellana straight through. She had to take a deep breath before she could speak again.

“There is no easy answer for this, Ashara. I wish there was. I have spent every day since the day I found out who your father was, wishing there was an easier answer to these kinds of questions.”

Now Ashara’s eyes were fixed on her, a stare she recognized all too well. This conversation would be seared into her daughter’s brain now. She hoped she had the right words of comfort to offer.

“So how do you do it?” Ashara asked.

“I find compromises. I pick the best possible scenario, even when it isn’t the perfect one, and I don’t let myself agonize over perfect things that will never be. I keep trying, every day, to find the greatest good for the greatest number.” 

It didn’t seem to be the answer Ashara wanted. Her lips were pursed.

“You will find a way to do that, too,” she offered. “I am sure of it.”

Ellana missed the exact moment when Ashara shifted from studying her to barreling into her, not so much a hug as an attack. Though her daughter had been taller than her for years, she was trying to make herself smaller now. Trying to be a child again. Ellana recovered her breath and held her tight, her hand on the back of Ashara’s neck, helping her feel small once more.

“I’m just so glad,” Ashara said, her voice thick, a moment later. “I’m so glad you’re alive. It was all worth it, Mamae.”

Ellana didn’t say anything. She hummed tunelessly instead, and held onto the feeling of still being needed, after all these years.

She let Ashara break the embrace first, and helped her dry her tears.

“I’m sorry,” Ashara sputtered. “We should be celebrating. Not crying. I’ll go back to the keep and try to start the day off better. Will you come?”

“Of course.”

As they walked back, Ellana let feelings drift wordlessly in and out of her mind as her feet crunched through the thin layer of snow that had fallen overnight. Relief. Anxiety. Joy. Determination. She had her life back now, and that wasn’t an ending - it was a beginning, a new challenge to tackle. There were new questions before her now. It was a privilege to begin answering them.

*

Solas woke again, later in the morning, feeling like he was coated in mud.

Perhaps he was exaggerating the feeling. The ritual, while hours long, should not have had such an effect on him. Yes, it had been disconcerting to spend a night watching the Fade as a lucid spectator and not an active shaper. Yes, his mana felt decidedly off. But he should be elated - was elated, when he woke earlier and saw Ellana standing before the mirror, no trace of magic on her skin. Maybe it was just that she was gone now. Maybe it was the sudden lack of a clear purpose for this day. No measurements to take, no memories to search for, no potions to brew. He was at sea.

Where did their lives go, now that this was over?

Was it over? For all he knew, Ellana had collapsed somewhere - knowing her, she would have tried to go outside, and perhaps no one had seen her, perhaps she had pushed herself too hard, perhaps her body was rejecting the foreign blood after all…

He was, as always, absurdly glad to see her when he made it to the main hall. It shouldn’t be possible after over twenty years that his heart lifted so easily at the sight of her, when he had already seen her that day, when he had spent so many days and nights at her side. It was a simple miracle. One he now got to hold onto for years to come.

“There you are,” Ellana said as he approached. “I would stand, but I’m not sure that I can.”

Her voice was playful or he would have panicked more than he did. He scanned her with his magic, searching for what ailed her - but it seemed to be nothing more than tired muscles.

“Don’t push yourself,” he chided. “Your body went through an ordeal yesterday - let alone what it went through in the months and months before.”

“I had to do it,” she said. “I needed to prove to myself that I am well.”

He sighed and shook his head, joining her at the table.

“Did you see Ashara this morning?”

“No. Is she well?”

“I think so. She still didn’t sleep well last night. She’s still very upset by what she learned - but we talked a little, and I think she feels better now.”

Ellana didn’t need to be more specific for Solas to catch what she meant.

“We should discuss this another time,” he said, hoping she would know that he truly meant another place, and not another time, per se. The hall was full of people, as always.

“So - what will we do with our day?” She asked.

“I woke with precisely that thought. I do not know.”

“What a delightful problem to have,” she said. “I ought to call Dorian and tell him the good news. That will take some time, and then he will almost certainly want to speak to Claudia. Perhaps once they are done, we could see about card games in the private dining room? Something that’s just - fun, for once.”

“What a novel idea,” he said. “I am amenable to that.”

He didn’t listen very closely to Ellana’s conversation with Dorian - though even he could hear the raw relief in the magister’s voice when she told him that it worked, that there was no longer any trace of the foreign magic in her body - and instead sat at their desk, sketching out an idea for a new mural he wanted to create for a library in Enasan. Surely they could - would - go back now. Maybe not immediately, but soon.

“Yes, I don’t see why we couldn’t come for your birthday. It’s been too long since we saw one another, anyway. The journey is not so bad from Skyhold.”

Or, perhaps not, given that Dorian’s birthday was in three months. To Enasan and back, and then back to Skyhold, and then on to Tevinter? That was a good deal of travel in such a short time…

He recentered his focus on the sketch, trying to draw himself away from such considerations. Today was a day for celebration. Not for planning.

“Can you check where Claudia is?” Ellana asked, breaking his concentration. He refocused once more, this time on the cacophony of different energies within the castle, each of them distinct as a person’s voice. It was the work of a moment to find Claudia - out in the courtyard, with Lucius and Ashara.

“I’ll walk down there,” Ellana said when he shared the news. “Go and see about setting up the dining room, will you?”

What a simple task, and so pleasant - finding the decks of cards, arranging the seating, delivering his specifications to the cook as to what should be served, and then, once more, just sitting and waiting for everyone else to arrive. True, something was still off about his mana. True, Ellana said that Ashara had not slept well despite their success. But then Ellana walked in (out of breath, yes, but already so much more  _ alive _ than she had been in months) and Ashara was on her heels (dark circles, yes, but smiling, and  _ here _ and not out there in the great world any longer).

They passed the day away in playful competition, enjoying the food that the kitchens brought for them. Ellana, as always, accused everyone of cheating (she was terrible at cards, and thought everyone who was good had to be deceiving her); Ashara, as always, giggled when she had a strategy in mind, and grew wide-eyed when she got a card she needed (how her mother ever thought she was cheating was beyond him). Claudia was a near-impossible read, his most serious competition, with Lucius a close second. Even then, it seemed only that he was distracted; he kept staring at a knot in the wood before him, missing the nuances of what was happening, and then paying attention once more with a start. When he focused sharply, he was a contender.

They were nearly ready for dinner when Dorian’s voice came through the crystal still hanging around Ellana’s neck.

“Ellana? Are you there?”

“Yes. Everyone is, actually. Did you need something?”

“Just Claudia. I wanted to tell her that I was able to arrange the meeting she asked for - but she’ll need to leave for Tevinter as soon as possible.”

“Oh, excellent!” Claudia said, leaning closer so Dorian could hear. “Would it work if we left in the next three days? That would give us time to gather supplies. It will begin to snow soon, and we’ll need the right gear.”

“We?”

“Well -” Claudia looked across the table to Lucius. “I assume Lucius will travel with me. It will be easier and safer for both of us that way.”

Lucius nodded. “I’ll come with you.” He was always a quiet man, but his voice was especially soft as he said the words.

“Excellent. Shall I inform Magister Corix? I should be able to track him down tomorrow.”

Lucius stared at the knot of wood in the table. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you, ser.”

“As you wish.”

Dorian and Claudia and Ellana were talking, but Solas kept his focus on the human at his side. Lucius had not lifted his eyes yet. Ashara was watching him too - her eyebrows knit together, her face filled with worry. Something was amiss here.

“I am sure you are both thrilled to return to Tevinter,” Solas said, when the crystal went dim.

“I am. Though home won’t be the same without you living there too, pestering me day and night,” Claudia said, poking Ashara. His daughter smiled, but it wasn’t a full one.

“I’ll miss you too. Both of you,” Ashara said.

Lucius was tracing the knot in the table now, his eyes glassy.

“I am sure you are eager to begin working more closely with your patron, Master Talvas,” Solas said. He was alert, watchful, tracking each of Lucius’s movements and expressions, as if this were part of their current game, and he needed to catch a bluff. The human met his eyes, then looked down and let out a small sigh, and then met his gaze again. Shame, fear - Solas had found the sore spot.

“Regrettably, I will not be working alongside Magister Corix. He has - taken back his offer of apprenticeship.”

“Oh,” Ellana said, her expression of concern mirroring Ashara’s. “I am so sorry to hear that. Does that happen often?”

“It’s not unheard of,” Lucius said.

“Perhaps you can persuade him to change his mind once you return.”

Lucius shifted in his seat, leaning back and then sitting up straight, opened his mouth and then closed it - and then finally spoke.

“He sent me here to gather information on you. On Enasan. The only reason he took me as his apprentice was because of my friendship with Ash. I - I said I would do it but then I never did. I swear to it. You can ask Ashara - she’s seen every letter I sent to him. I told her the truth once we were in Orlais. He suspected that Ellana was ill, and said that there are people in the Magisterium who feared what the Dread Wolf -” He took a centering breath and turned to face Solas. “What  _ you _ would do, if your wife was dead. He also wanted me to find out if there was any truth to the rumors about strange fluctuations in Enasan’s Veil. I’m telling you this now because you should know - you have enemies in Tevinter, and they are looking for any advantage they can find. And they know. About the Veil. Or at least they suspect.”

The room was still for only a moment, but in that moment Solas felt the rage begin to swell in his chest.  _ Foolish, selfish, dangerous little shemlen - whatever your intentions now you befriended my daughter - worse, got her besotted with you - because she was a means to an end - you came into my family and you - _

A short, brittle laugh from Ellana cut off his thoughts.

“I wish I could say it was a surprise that we had enemies in Tevinter, but you may as well have told me that the Fallow Mire is full of mud. It is good to have the name of at least one enemy. I thank you for that.” Her words were kind but her tone was cold. Lucius was holding his gaze steady, unwavering.

“What he says is true,” Ashara burst in then, her eyes darting back and forth between Solas’s own face and Ellana’s. “I have seen every letter. He did tell me. We can even show you the letter Corix sent. Corix himself says that Lucius didn’t do what he asked. He is a good man.”

“And even good men are tempted to dangerous things in desperate times,” Solas said. His mana was still muddied and sluggish but it was rising now, a tide within him - he would turn this human to stone, shatter him to pieces and cast those pieces to the Void if he could find even a shred of proof that he had taken advantage of Ashara in this, however subtly, however many weeks ago -

“I would not be telling you the truth if I planned to use anything I learned here later,” Lucius said. His expression was calm but his voice trembled. “I know that you would find me, if any information got out that was dangerous to your family. I know your revenge would be swift and terrible.” The human’s own mana was building with the warm bulk of a barrier, not fully cast but prepared. “I don’t want to cause harm to any of you. Or to Enasan. Truly.”

“Will you still feel that way when you cannot find another patron on your own merit and the Minrathous Circle at last casts you out?”

“Papae!” Ashara said sharply. “He is trying to do the right thing -”

“For now, yes,” Solas said. He slipped into Elvhen, the better to channel his anger and fear, the better to remind Lucius that this was not his place. “You knew all of this when you brought this man to Skyhold, child? You knew he could be a traitor, a threat to your family and all you held dear and yet you still brought him here? What were you thinking? That his pretty smile excused all else?”

“Solas, enough,” Ellana said, in Trade still. She was trying to draw him back. “I will not deny that this is shocking news. But both Ashara and Lucius have spoken the truth. He is trying to do the right thing. He refused to report on us before and it cost him a great deal. Why tell us this now, only to turn around and report on us later? Think, vhenan.”

Silence fell over the small room. Cards were scattered over the table - Ashara had thrown hers down at some point. Solas reigned in the drumbeat of his rage, felt his mana contract, felt Lucius respond in kind. He took in the disappointment in his daughter’s eyes. Thought back to the day before, and the way Lucius had always been right where he needed him, before he had to say anything. His unswerving determination to see the ritual through. The way he’d pulled Ashara close to him when the ritual was done, and held her.

“You are correct,” he said at last. “There is nowhere you could go that I would not find you, if you did choose to betray us. There is a reason they said I stalked men’s nightmares.”

To his credit, Lucius held his gaze, and didn’t flinch.

“You will never need to stalk mine,” he said.

Solas felt the urge to protect his daughter burn bright in him, a hot flare of fire seeping in through the Fade - and then he let it pass.

“Well, I think that was enough excitement for one afternoon,” Ellana said. 

“Several bards are playing at the Herald’s Rest tonight. Would anyone care to go and listen?” Ashara said, looking tentatively between the other four people at the table.

Only Claudia and Lucius said yes, though that was hardly a surprise - the invitation was really directed at them. Solas watched Ashara go with them, grown and yet not grown in his eyes, walking with the two people she’d chosen, for good or for ill, wishing as he often wished that she was still too young to leave him.

“That was unexpected,” Ellana said quietly. “And we were having such a pleasant afternoon.”

“I am glad he is leaving. I pray Ashara forgets him. How could she trust him, after she learned the truth?”

“I trusted you again, didn’t I?”

The words stung.

“Not right away. And you were wise to be hesitant. She is too young to be so wise.”

“She has to learn somehow. Besides,” Ellana nodded slowly, like she was replaying the conversation in her mind. “I believe him when he says he doesn’t wish any of us any harm. In my gut.”

“I wish I had your confidence in gut feelings,” he said.

“I know. But that’s why you’re keeping me around for years and years to come, isn’t it?”

He loved the gentle humor in her voice, the warmth, the offering, the way she drew him away from the things that brought him pain and towards the things that brought him joy. Her foot ran up his leg beneath the table and he caught it, pressed his thumb into the arch, overwhelmed by a hunger to feel her, to remind himself that whatever else was happening, they succeeded.

“Ar lath ma,” he said.

“And I love you.” She pulled her foot gently from his grasp and rose, heading towards the door, turning to speak to him over. “Now - let’s see if we can’t find something better to amuse ourselves with than half-rate bards.”

Later, Solas came back down to the main part of the castle, not because Ellana was in pain and needed relief, but because she was hungry, and entirely too relaxed to stir from where he’d left her, he was pleased to say. It was with this half-smile on his face and food in tow that he crossed through the now empty great hall - and saw Lucius and Ashara on the other side of it. Ashara was standing near the door to the part of the keep where she stayed, her back against it, and Lucius was standing before her, leaning over her. Solas tensed - Ashara looked trapped, hemmed in by the human’s bulk - but she was smiling. A soft, gentle smile he’d never seen on her face before, and yet recognized instantly, because he’d seen it so many times on her mother’s. He couldn’t see Lucius’s face but he could hear his quiet laughter - and then the human ducked his head and kissed her, a quick, chaste kiss (there were some small mercies in the world). Then Ashara opened the door behind her and slipped through, and Lucius turned away. 

There was just enough time for Solas to bend the Veil around himself, hiding him from the human’s view, and he got to watch Lucius as he walked away, a small smile on his face that he also recognized. A smile that spoke of unexpected good fortune.

“You look thoughtful,” Ellana said when he returned. She was standing on the balcony in her robe, barefoot on the cold stone.

“Come in out of the cold,” he said, chiding.

“You’re the one that got me all heated up.”

He smiled, and joined her, setting the food down on the small table they kept on the balcony for such purposes.

“What were you lost in thought about?” She asked, later.

“I happened to spy Ashara and Lucius saying goodnight to each other on my way back.”

“Oh? And they are both still alive right now, correct? There isn’t a new statue in the main hall?”

“Of course not,” he huffed. Then, after a pause: “I’ve never seen her smile like that before. Certainly not since the temple.”

“I agree,” Ellana said. “He does seem to know how to make her smile, even now.”

The thought still rankled.

“He is still not who I would choose for her. He -”

“How lucky for her, then, that you don’t get to choose.”

“I am her father -”

“And you are also an obstinate pain in the ass.”

A laugh escaped him at that. She always did cut straight to the heart of things. No blinking. No bluffing. He wound his arms around her waist and pulled her tight against him.

“Spend another twenty years making me less obstinate, vhenan.”

“That’s a tall order.”

“You’re up to the task.” He lowered his head and pressed a line of kisses along her exposed shoulder, making her hum. “I look forward to each and every day we have ahead of us, now. Whatever happens.”

She was silent, then, though his lips still trailed along her shoulder and up her neck.

“We’ll be back here again, Solas,” she said quietly. “Not tomorrow. Not a year from now. But I will not live forever.”

He tightened his arms around her waist. He wanted to deflect. To deny. To bargain. Instead he spoke the words he feared.

“I know.”

Strangely it was not sadness that he felt as he counted the stars shining down on the mountains - instead he found himself drinking in the joy of the moment. Warm skin and cold air, the distant hush of wind running through pine trees, the faint beat of her heart, the absent circles her thumb rubbed on his wrist, the scent of her skin. He drank all of it in, heedless of past and future alike.

*

Lucius remembered walking the streets of Minrathous and flinching when an elf would pass.

He remembered assuring Ashara that Fen’Harel was a madman who should have been killed years ago.

He remembered thinking Ashara had to be a spy, even if she was the world’s worst one.

All of that seemed so distant now, in the Herald’s Rest, his hand resting on her thigh.

Yes, there were moments where he caught sight of her and remembered, suddenly, how different she was from him - from the shape of her ears to the grace with which she moved, no motion wasted, to the way her magic ebbed and flowed in ancient, unfamiliar rhythms.

Yes, he thought back to what he saw and felt in Enasan, and wondered if what Ashara said was true - if they knew exactly how it was that Falon’Din was able to slip into this realm, if they could guarantee nothing like that would happen again.

But mostly he sat there in the warm, bright atmosphere of the tavern and felt, for the first time in many years, something like being home.

Now he would have to leave that feeling in three short days. To confront once again that he was too old and too poor, and time was running out.

But she smiled at him as they walked hand in hand back towards their rooms, and he was less afraid.

“I am sorry for how my father behaved,” she said when they lingered by the door to her rooms. “He’s just - protective.”

“I can understand that. I wouldn’t be happy either, in his place.”

“Maybe in time, he’ll see what I do,” she said.

“What is that, exactly?”

Ashara looked at him thoughtfully, weighing her words. “Someone who helps even when he doesn’t have to. Who sacrificed gain for himself for the sake of others. Someone who is thoughtful. Someone who deserves more than what life has handed him. Someone who makes me happy.”

Lucius couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him and saw only him - not a Laetan upstart, not a potential tool. There was pressure behind his eyes - not tears, exactly, but something like them.

“Maybe in time.”

Ashara’s smile grew softer, somehow, filled with an affection that only increased the pressure behind his eyes. He leaned over her, wanting to gather her to himself.

“Come to bed with me?” She asked, her voice equal parts hesitation and anticipation.

“Not tonight,” he said. He wanted to examine this feeling she’d sown in him, in the privacy of his own thoughts. He wanted to make plans: how to go back to Tevinter and make a life he could be proud of - that she could be proud of. She sighed.

“I’m beginning to think you are doing this to torment me.”

Lucius laughed quietly, and then bent and kissed her - a quick kiss, nothing she could draw him into to drain his resolve.

“Maybe I am. Good night, formosa.”

“On nydhe, ma’lath.”

He walked away trying not to smile, knowing how lovesick he would appear to anyone who saw him, knowing that this feeling may not last, that there were a dozen obstacles in its way. But he found he couldn’t make the corners of his mouth turn down.

By morning he had a list of people to contact when he returned to Minrathous - old acquaintances who might at least give him some work that didn’t require the rank of Enchanter. He could make a passable steward or assistant to someone, earn some money that way, and then perhaps find somewhere else to study, somewhere outside of Tevinter. He wanted to continue to learn, to grow as a mage - and the Imperium didn’t have a monopoly on that. He didn’t have to become an Enchanter, mingle among Altus crowds, wheedle his way into marrying an Altus girl, to live a good life. A safe life. A happy life. He saw that now.

Claudia was less impressed by the list than he thought she would be the next morning, when they visited the merchants in the lower courtyard of Skyhold to shop for supplies.

“I still don’t see why you won’t at least let me speak to Dorian first,” she said. “You have more potential than this.”

“And if Magister Pavus felt that way, he would have noticed me at one of the ten public trials I’ve gone to, trying to catch the eye of a patron. The next one isn’t even until Frumentum, and I’ll be twenty-five in Parvulis. The Circle will ask me to leave then.”

“But you don’t have to wait for the official trials if Dorian extends you a personal invitation. You know that. Besides - you do realize he wasn’t at a single one of the trials you went to, right? He already had me as an apprentice. He never needed to look for anyone else. Maybe you would have impressed him after all.”

Lucius had not considered that.

“It’s expensive and time-consuming to have one apprentice, let alone two.”

“Let Dorian worry about that. At least let me tell him what happened. He would want to know about what Corix was up to, anyway. And then you can demonstrate your skills and ideas for him, and if he likes you, that’s wonderful. If not, you can go through with your plan.”

It was a good plan. A generous one. Claudia was a kind friend. It was what he’d always wanted. His parents would have been proud to have a son who was an Enchanter of the Minrathous Circle. And if living with Dorian meant he got to speak to Ashara sometimes through the crystal, or that she and her parents might come to visit…

“Very well. But I don’t want it to be charity. I want to earn it.”

“I agree,” she said, smiling. “I hope it works out. I’ve gotten used to you, you know. And it would make Ash very happy, I think.”

He wondered what Ashara’s plans were now. She had graduated from the top academy in Enasan, he knew, but he also knew that she could pursue further schooling if she wished: a specialization, or advanced training to allow her to further her research or interests. The thought knotted him up a little. What if they were both too busy, after this point, too wrapped up in building their own lives at opposite ends of the continent?

There was nothing to do but ask.

They went for a long walk the afternoon before he had to leave, beyond the castle walls and into the stark wilderness that surrounded it. Ashara shared stories she’d witnessed in the Fade of all the things that happened in the surrounding area - of how her father built the keep, of how her mother made it a home for a force that would change the world. At one point she stopped and pointed to a road.

“There - that’s the road you and Claudia will take when you leave. The passes won’t be closed by snow yet. It’s the safest way.” The same sadness he felt tinged her words. He began to phrase the question in his mind, tried to figure out what exactly it was he wanted to ask her - but before he could, she spoke. “Lucius - I want us to be together. Whatever that looks like. I can see you every night in the Fade, you know. Well, once the interference from the ritual fades completely, which shouldn’t take long. And I don’t know exactly what I’ll be doing next but I’m sure I can come visit you in Tevinter while you study. We can figure out the rest later, if there is a later. I - would you want that?”

“Yes,” he said, without hesitating, his fingers and toes and the crown of his head numb with joy.

“Then - there’s one other thing.” She turned to face him fully and took both of his hands, looking him straight in the eye. “There are things I learned because of what happened with Falon’Din. Things I can’t tell anyone. Not yet, at least. I - maybe it’s silly to say anything at all, but I need you to know that. I don’t want to start this with secrets.”

It wasn’t surprising, he supposed. He almost didn’t want to know what she’d seen through that monster’s eyes. This was a beginning - there was time enough to learn more.

“I understand,” he said.

She smiled, wide enough to swallow the sky, so wide she could barely kiss him back when he pulled her to him, so wide it made him laugh instead of deepening the kiss.

“I wish I didn’t have to go so early tomorrow,” he sighed, tracing the freckles on her cheekbones with his thumbs.

“Why? Hoping for a late night?” Ashara said, a sly look in her eyes.

“Maybe I was.”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter how early you’re getting up. Maybe I’ve decided to make  _ you _ wait for a change.”

“Fair enough, amata,” he said.

They turned and went back towards Skyhold, hand in hand, and Lucius let the feeling of belonging settle over him like a warm cloak.

*

All was well.

Ashara could tell she was going to have to say that to herself a lot in the future. She was having a hard time believing it. That was normal, from what she understood. She started reading the book Papae found for her, the stories of Inquisition soldiers who survived its many battles and came home to find the war never really ended. What happened to her wasn’t exactly the same. But she knew, at least for now, that she would have to reassure herself over and over again that it was true. All was well.

Mamae was getting stronger, day by day. Lucius had a plan for what to do when he returned to Tevinter. Claudia was excited to move forward with her own plans with Dorian.

Ashara was still struggling to regain control over the Fade, as was her father. That would change in time. The effects of the blood magic would fade. It was a worthy price to pay, if Mamae was well at last.

She knew she would have to wait for an answer about the orb and the weakening of the Veil in Enasan.

She did not know when she would see Lucius again after that morning.

But she could take a deep breath and search for the things that brought her peace that morning instead. She did not have to dwell on those thoughts. Eventually the panic that tightened her chest would dissipate.

Lucius and Claudia had to leave early that morning, and both Ashara and her parents made sure they rose early enough to say good-bye.

“It’s hard to believe that I won't see you every day anymore,” Ashara sighed when they stood outside the keep. “Are you sure we all can't just keep exploring and adventuring together?”

“That would imply that you are at liberty to go wandering around the wilds at will once more, Ashara,” Papae said, dryly.

“You can't be serious,” she said, turning to see him, if only because it meant not staring at Lucius and Claudia in their traveling cloaks.

“We didn't tell you?” Mamae said. “You’re confined to this keep until you die, da’len. You’ve given us enough scares for a lifetime.”

“Make a break for it now,” Claudia said, laughing. “We’ll cover your retreat.”

“I’ll find some way of escape,” Ashara sighed, though truly she couldn't imagine leaving. Not yet. Every time she looked at Mamae she still wanted to wrap her arms tight around her, in recognition of how close she’d come to losing her, as she had the morning they talked.

“Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it, then,” Mamae said. “I cannot thank either of you enough. This would not have been possible without your help. Wherever our home is, know that you have a home as well.”

Claudia and Lucius expressed their thanks, and Mamae embraced each of them in turn, which seemed to startle Lucius, a little.

“I can only echo Ellana’s sentiments. We are forever in your debt,” Papae said, with a courtly half-bow. More thanks from Claudia and Lucius, and then there was only her left.

Ashara managed to get an arm around each of them, her face crushed somewhere between both of theirs, and she couldn’t hide the waver in her voice when she spoke.

“I’ll miss both of you,” she said. “So much. I - I don’t even have words for how grateful I am we met.”

They both returned her embrace and for a moment Ashara was staggered by the loss she felt. This was an ending, in some ways. She was back where she’d been over seven months ago - on the steps of Skyhold, standing with her parents, but this time she was the one being left behind.

“We’ll see each other again,” Lucius assured her, quietly.

A few tears had escaped by the time Ashara pulled back and she wiped them away before they could see.

“You should go,” she said. “Before I do decide to try and escape with you. It would be cruel to make Mamae and Papae chase me.”

She didn’t miss that Lucius took her hand and pressed it, and held on until he couldn’t, and had to turn and walk further down the steps. She could still feel the shape of it, even when he was across the courtyard, even when he and Claudia were on the drawbridge, even once they were out of sight. She would carry it with her as long as she could.

“I’m going back inside. It’s getting too cold out here. Coming, Ashara?” Mamae said.

“In a minute.”

She thought she was alone at first, standing there, staring at nothing in particular, trying to sort through all the things she was feeling. Then she felt Papae’s presence at her side.

“It’s going to be fine,” he said.

She tried to smile but there was too much weight inside her, so many things she didn’t have words for.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking about,” she said.

“I know,” he replied. “And it will still be fine.”

Ashara closed her eyes and finally found the source of the disconnect she felt. She stood on the steps of the keep, exactly where she’d bid farewell to Mamae and Papae before leaving for Tevinter, so sure of herself, and the world she lived in. The world she found herself in now was different - rich and strange and uncertain and wild beyond imagining.

“I thought that so many times on this journey. There were so many places it could have gone wrong. Places where it did go wrong,” she said. “What if this time…?”

“I know,” he replied. “There is no guarantee that things will happen when or how you want them. When I say that things will be fine, it is not because they will always be what you want them to be. I say it because I have faith in you, da’vhenan. I have faith in how you will handle whatever happens.”

Did she envy the person who’d walked away from this keep into the morning sun, towards all the unseen things waiting for her? Did she envy her confidence, her certainty?

No. She didn’t.

She leaned against Papae until he put his arm around her shoulder. She thought back to his previous outburst, when he accused her of trusting Lucius only for his smile, back further to when he accused her of having no judgment at all, and it didn’t sting the same way. She knew this was the place they would find their way back to, no matter how often they fought. 

They stood like that, watching the people come and go, not counting the moments that passed, until Ashara felt the tension in her ease. She was not the same person who left Skyhold months before. And that was a good thing.

“Come in when you’re ready,” Papae said, before he let her go and turned and left.

Ashara stood in the wintery sunlight for a while longer, until her mind was as clear as the sky. Then she took a breath, turned, and went back into the keep, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first had the idea for this story, I almost didn’t write it, because I was convinced no one would read it. Then I started writing it, and I still kept my expectations low, because who wants to read about a bunch of random OCs and my harebrained idea of a plot? As a result, literally every time that one of you has left kudos or made a bookmark or subscribed, or taken time out of your day to write a comment, it has made my day that much brighter, because I never expected it. So, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. This fic wouldn’t be what it was without you. I hope each of you have found something to enjoy in it, and would love to hear your thoughts now that it’s all over.
> 
> I do have an epilogue planned out that takes place three months after this chapter on Dorian and Ashara’s sort-of shared birthday, but it’s pure fluff/humor/probably smut and I’m half-embarrassed by how self-indulgent it is, so I’m not sure yet if I’ll actually post it. If anyone is curious to know what happens to any of our characters long-term after this, I am happy to share all my ravings about the next several years in their lives - I have spent a lot of time thinking about it :)


	27. Epilogue, Part One*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You asked, and you shall receive! Self-indulgent fluff, humor, and smut, set three months after the last chapter. It got so long on me that I split it into 2 parts.
> 
> Throughout this, Ellana is reflecting on her post-Trespasser meeting with Dorian in my one-shot “Domestic Life.”
> 
> Smut starts at the double asterisks (**). You can skip straight to part two if you don’t want to read it, since that’s where part one ends :)

The bordertown villa Dorian owned was brighter and more beautiful than Ellana remembered. It had been over twenty years since she’d been there, and somehow she’d expected it to look worse for the wear. It certainly hadn’t been much to look at when she visited him there in the wake of the Venatori attempt on his life; then it was full of bare walls and dusty corners, a place Dorian stole away to meet Bull when he wasn't trying to rewrite the laws of the country he loved, or digging up information on Fen’Harel’s forces. Before they even entered the remote house, Ellana could see the differences: the fresh coat of whitewashing, the neatly manicured path and garden off to one side, not to mention the larger addition to the second story that she almost didn't notice at first, thanks to the trees in the way.

“Is that them?” Ashara asked, leaning forward in the saddle, her eyes trained on the small garden to the left of the house - another new addition. Then she leaned back, and with one hand fidgeted with the curls around her face, rearranging them for the third time that morning.

“I believe so,” Solas said. Moments later they could hear the laughter drifting out from the garden, and then a joyous shout as they were recognized.

By the time they’d dismounted and tied up the harts, Dorian had come out of the house, and Ellana was struck at once by a joy so strong it hurt. The last time she’d seen him he’d left Skyhold with her daughter in tow, and she’d watched him go and thought _I will never see him again_ and felt her heart break. How happy she was to be wrong.

“About time!” Dorian said. “I was beginning to think you would miss my birthday entirely. Don’t they teach manners in Enasan? We started the party _yesterday_.”

“My deepest apologies, Magister Pavus,” Ellana said, with an affected bow. Dorian rolled his eyes and embraced her. It was tighter than usual. She felt more than heard the little sigh of relief he made - likely the only direct acknowledgement she would get of his happiness that she was alive, at least for now - and squeezed him back. Then they parted.

“Happy birthday, Dorian,” Solas said with an inclination of his head.

“My thanks, Solas.” He turned to Ashara, who was looking past him, towards the garden - searching faces, no doubt. “I’m willing to bet that this tardiness is your fault somehow, Ashara. What was it, hm? Did you oversleep? Spend too long chasing down a rare book? Uncover a dastardly plot to steal a farmer’s cows that you had to stop?”

“No,” Ashara said hotly, her attention back on Dorian. “They were lost travelers, immigrating from Nevarra to Enasan. They just needed a little guidance back to the proper road.”

Dorian raised his eyebrows. “It was a joke, you know.”

Ellana couldn’t help but laugh. “She stumbled across them on a morning walk. It was a worthy cause, I think.”

“I wouldn’t have made us late for anything that wasn’t important,” Ashara said, but she was distracted again, leaning around Dorian to get a better view of the garden. Ellana followed her gaze and could make out a few familiar faces, Bull and Krem among them - but certainly not the face Ashara was looking for with such determination.

“No indeed. In any case, is this how you greet your favorite and most handsome uncle?”

Ashara finally recovered herself, and smiled, embracing Dorian.

“Happy birthday, uncle.”

“Happy almost-birthday, Ashara,” he said. “Come - let us get settled.”

They commented on all the changes as they went inside the house, and Ellana was pleased to see how many guest rooms now occupied the second floor of the villa. Once they’d set down their things and had a chance to clean off the dust of the road, Ellana and Solas went back out into the hall. A quick glance into Ashara’s room showed that she’d already left.

“Damn,” Ellana said. “I’d hoped to force her to sit and have a very long conversation with Bull about his latest exploits. She may have actually exploded by the end.”

Solas sighed. “She has seen him every night in the Fade since he left. I don’t see the rush.”

Ellana laced her hand with his and leaned the length of her body against his. “Really now? You don’t? We shall conduct our entire relationship through the Fade from now on, then.”

As luck would have it, Bull had already found Ashara, and she actually was paying quite rapt attention to whatever he was telling her.

“Boss,” he said as they approached. “Your kid here was just asking about all the ins and outs of taking on contracts. What to look for and so on. Do you have a little mercenary here?”

“I was just curious,” Ashara said with a shrug. “I checked every Chantry board between Skyhold and here, but of course we couldn’t stop for any of the requests. I just wanted to know how it would work if I ever did.”

“Well, that’s a whole other story. If you’re looking for really big contracts, you go about it a bit differently.”

Ellana was surprised to see how interesting this conversation seemed to Ashara, given her single-minded mission when she entered the house. Something to think about later. Dorian had returned, wine glasses in hand.

“You’ll need to catch up, of course. Most everyone is in the garden. Ah, except for Lucius, which I’m sure is interesting to _someone_ in this room.” Ashara did stop and turn at that. “He was somehow pressed into service in the kitchen, though whose idea that was I can’t imagine. I tried to free him, but I was turned away.”

“Aw, don’t spoil the fun, kadan,” Bull said. “I bet Krem some good money how long it would take Ashara to find him.”

Ashara was blushing, of course, muttering something under her breath that Ellana couldn’t hear, but that made Bull laugh loudly.

“I’ve missed that laugh, Bull,” Ellana said.

“Of course you have,” Bull said with a smirk.

“Which way is the kitchen, again?” Ashara said, taking a step away.

“Oh no,” Bull said, stepping easily to block her. “You’re not leaving in the middle of my lesson on contract negotiations, are you?”

“No, uncle,” Ashara sighed.

“Damn,” Dorian said as they made their way towards the garden. “I so wanted to be there when they reunited. I wanted to see the look on our dear Solas’s face when his only daughter kissed a filthy Vint, of all things.”

“What makes you think I would have any kind of look on my face?” Solas said, though he couldn’t quite keep the irritation out of his voice.

“Please,” Dorian said as they breezed out into the garden. “The four of us spent entirely too much time tramping about Thedas together to not know exactly how to push each other's buttons.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Ellana said.

The garden was a lovely, ornamental place, full of trellises for shade and sweet smelling flowers. They were quickly engulfed in greetings - Claudia, of course, a handful of the old Chargers, including Krem and Maryden and their children, along with several new members that she had not met; Maevaris Tilani and her family were all present, as well. They settled into a comfortable spot near the edge of the garden that bordered the woods, helped themselves to some of the finger foods, and Ellana quickly lost herself in catching up with old friends. Solas was quiet, as he usually was at such affairs, but he traced idle shapes on the nape of her neck with his finger, and smiled whenever she glanced at him.

Ashara did finally appear in the garden some time later, with Lucius at her side, and Bull trailing behind. He grumbled to Krem about ‘interference,’ but still handed over a handful of coins. Lucius, she noted at once, was dressed more nicely than the last time she’d seen him, and his hair had been cut more neatly. No doubt a result of his new patron, Maevaris (though she’d yet to hear the exact details on what happened there - she just remembered Ashara sharing the news at breakfast one morning, looking more disappointed than Ellana expected). The effect was ruined by the fact that he had an apron on, and that his sleeves were rolled back, and that soap still clung to his wrists.

“Good afternoon,” he said with a small bow when he and Ashara approached the part of the garden where she and Solas sat. “I hope your journey went well.”

“It did, though it’s wonderful to be out of the saddle at last.” It was the other reason for their delay - despite her fervent efforts to strengthen her weakened body, riding still required muscles she hadn’t used in many months, and she found she still tired more easily than before - though maybe that was just an effect of getting older.

“I can imagine.”

Claudia wandered over, and together they dove into the story of Lucius’ new work with Maevaris - how Dorian was too busy with his own work and sponsoring Claudia to take on anyone else, but how Maevaris had always been terribly interested in the many applications of lightning, and now that her children were mostly grown, finally had the time to consider an apprentice. It led naturally to the question of what Ashara would do with her own life, once Maevaris herself and a few others wandered over.

“Lots of things,” Ashara said, confidently. “There’s a school training mages in Dirth’ena Enasalin - Knight-Enchanters, sorry - that I applied to, and the university in Enasan is always looking for more researchers with knowledge of the Fade, although I might need to take a few more classes to qualify. Then there are the organizations that help fund and guide elves seeking to immigrate to Enasan, and of course there is a push to send researchers out here to Tevinter to examine sites related to Arlathan. Not to mention all the people whose requests I saw on the way here. So many people in this world need help.”

“So, in short, you have no idea what you’re going to do,” Bull said.

Ashara looked taken aback. “No. I want to do all of it. I just haven’t decided on the order.”

That won her several laughs, although she wasn’t pleased by that reaction. She always hated it when she wasn’t taken seriously. Ellana, for her part, was watching Lucius’ reaction, though she assumed he had to know about these grand plans - what else were they talking about in the Fade every night? He wasn’t one of the ones laughing. He had a fond look on his face, watching her mounting irritation.

It was getting close to dinner, she realized with a smile. It was at Dorian’s birthday dinner twenty years ago that she felt the first tell-tale sign - a tightening in her heavy, swollen belly different from the ones she’d been plagued with for days, so painful it took her breath away. And then, scarcely ten minutes later, another. She watched Ashara, soothed now, smiling and laughing at something Krem said, and felt her own smile grow. She didn’t know then what little person was waiting to come into the world, only that she already loved them. And now her daughter was grown, and determined to take on everything the world had to offer, and every single one of its problems.

“I suppose I should go to the wine cellar before dinner,” Dorian mused once there was a lull.

“A wine cellar?” Ellana laughed. “My, you have gotten fancy since I was here last. Didn’t we drink straight from the bottle then?”

“Allow me to make it up to you by giving you the opportunity to choose our next bottle,” he said, rising.

Ellana followed him back into the house and into the dark, narrow space, breathing in deep the scent of earth that surrounded them. It was a modest cellar, but there was still a decent selection, and they fell to idly discussing the merits of one Orlesian vineyard over another, before lapsing into a brief silence that Dorian eventually broke.

“So will we be calling you Ambassador Lavellan again any time soon?” Dorian asked, dusting off the label of the red he’d just made a case for uncorking.

“Dear gods, no. When we founded Enasan, there were so few who had the experience and connections necessary for what I did. Now there are a whole generation of elves who have grown up with the opportunities that their parents didn’t have. It’s time for them to shape the future of the country.”

“But you can’t tell me you don’t still have a ladle in the pot, so to speak.”

Ellana put down the bottle she’d picked up and met Dorian’s gaze. “True.”

“Then, can we talk shop for a moment? Try this one.” He poured her a taste of the red.

Ellana sipped the wine. “Good. Very earthy. Solas would like it. What do you want to talk about?”

“I followed up on what Claudia and Lucius told me about Corix, of course. He’s not the sort to be worried about. Too petty and short-sighted. But the people he’s working with are far more imaginative. They’ve started sending agents along with merchants bound for Enasan. Mages, of course. They are very concerned about - anomalies in the Veil there. Reports that there has been a small but noticeable uptick in the number of mages born in Enasan.”

“I’m not surprised,” Ellana said, handing back the glass. Her pulse slowed - the instinctive practice of a hunter who sensed either prey or predator.

“Is there any truth to their fears?”

Dorian had a look on his face that she saw only rarely. Hard. Calculating. The look of a magister, and not her friend.

“They have nothing to worry about,” she said, handing him the bottle she’d chosen, watching as he uncorked it.

“But that doesn’t mean that their fears are unfounded, does it?” he said as the cork slid free. “You have always been better at politics than you think you are, Ellana. I know an evasion when I hear it.”

“Lethallin,” she said, dropping the careful masked face and voice she’d donned without thinking. “You know - you’ve always known that there are things we can’t tell each other. Not with the kind of work we do.”

“I know. I hardly came down here expecting a straight answer,” he sipped the wine she’d chosen. “Oh, this one is good. Very fruity. We may as well bring both.”

That seemed to be the end of it. Ellana wanted to say more, but she didn’t know what. They’d walked this line ever since Enasan was founded - ever since Solas found the orb. Ever since she called Dorian one day and asked if he and Bull could take her - and her unborn child - away. Dorian himself might not be so bothered by what they were trying to do, if only because he would find it fascinating - but as a magister who loved and served his country, whatever its flaws? She couldn’t put him in the position of knowing something that no other political leader outside of Enasan (and even many within it) knew, and ask him never to act on it.

“What happened with Ashara,” he said, and then paused, rearranging a bottle or two. “It’s worse than what you told me. Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Ellana said. She could give him that much.

“Is there any immediate danger of it happening again?”

“No.”

He straightened. “I will do what I can to allay the fears of Corix and his kind. Perhaps something can happen to their agents between the Imperium and Enasan. Orlais has been having a terrible time with bandits along the imperial roads, I hear.”

“I’ll see to it, if you get me the information.”

“Of course. But you have to know that it doesn’t end here - if Tevinter is worried, then so is Orlais. So is Ferelden. I don’t think it’s time for you to step away quite yet.” He walked towards the stairs, then paused, and turned. “I am so very happy you are well, my friend. I can’t imagine all this without you.”

“I’m happy, too,” she said, and together they returned to the waning sunlight and the sounds of merriment.

*

Dinner was a long affair, several courses of a fascinating mixture of foods - some delicacies prepared by Dorian’s chef, and other, simpler foods prepared by various guests over the course of the day, or brought with them on their journeys. They enjoyed roast quail alongside a simple stew, Orlesian cheeses along with the halla cheese Ellana herself had purchased on their journey. Eventually the door to the wine cellar was left open, and the desserts were brought out, as eclectic as the rest of the courses, and the gifts they each brought. Ellana longed only for the rest of their missing companions, though Maryden did her best dramatic readings of the letters they’d sent, and they were present in the stories that were told.

At some point, Ashara, Lucius, and Claudia slipped back outside to the garden, where they started a fire, and were sharing stories of their own, it would seem, joined eventually by the other young people in attendance, prompting Bull to remark:

“Shit. We’re the old ones now, aren’t we?”

“Speak for yourself, chief,” Krem snorted.

“Now, if only we could figure out exactly who was the oldest… would someone please do the math between 9:11 Dragon and 9:66 Dragon? My poor Dalish brain just can’t figure it out...” Ellana said, tapping her chin.

“Stop. It’s my birthday and that means I don’t have to think about my age,” Dorian said.

“I think I can ease some of your pain by claiming the title of oldest present,” Solas said, raising his glass in a mock salute.

It grew darker, and people began trailing off to bed, and at last the four of them decided, a little drunkenly, to go outside and crash this ‘young people party.’ Ashara, Claudia, and Lucius, and their remaining friends, didn’t seem that bothered.

“Good. I wouldn’t care if you were,” Dorian said proudly. “It is my birthday, after all.”

“Is it even still your birthday?” Ellana said, looking up at the night sky, feeling loose and happy and warm from wine.

“I’d say it’s past midnight,” Bull said. “Look how dark it is now. No more unreasonable demands, kadan.”

“Then that means it’s my birthday!” Ashara crowed. Her cheeks were flushed, too, though more from the heat of the fire and Lucius’s arm around her waist, Ellana thought. “Where are my presents?”

It was time for her favorite game then, the one they played every year since she was little.

“I don’t think so,” Ellana said, shaking her head. “If you went back in time twenty years, I would still be as big as the moon, bent over in pain, wishing someone would just cut the silly babe out of me. I had hours and hours and hours to go, you little monster. You can wait.”

“Fine,” Ashara said with a dramatic sigh. Odd. She usually fought harder to get her presents and treats as soon as possible. “I’ll just go to bed.”

To their credit, they tried to be subtle. Ashara didn’t so much as look at Lucius when she left. Several minutes had gone by before Claudia and the last of Krem and Maryden’s children said they were ready for bed as well, and then several more before Lucius himself said his good nights. But Ellana had little doubt as to where he was headed - she’d seen Ashara steal away to an apothecary one morning in Jader on a mysterious mission - and neither did Dorian or Bull, judging by the look they shared. It was - not a thought she wanted to dwell on, in particular.

“Ah, young love,” Dorian sighed, tending the fire. “Shall we tell embarrassing stories about our first lovers?”

“Somehow I feel that you’ll have the worst ones,” Ellana said.

“My money is on Solas, actually. I’m sure there’s some delightfully strange ancient Elvhen custom for losing one’s virginity.”

That won a snort from her bondmate. “We have confirmation that _you_ are the one who set curtains on fire well into adulthood.”

“I’ll never forgive you for sharing that,” Dorian grumbled, eyes narrowed at Bull, but the Qunari just laughed and pulled his kadan closer.

“I don’t know,” Ellana said. “Mine was pretty bad. Poor Mahanon was both drunk _and_ nervous the night of our bonding ceremony.”

They lapsed into conversation as the fire burned low and the night grew darker, until they could barely see each other’s faces and could only hear the sound of each other’s voices, familiar and comforting as wind in the trees.

**

It definitely took an hour for Lucius to leave the fire and come upstairs. Ashara was sure of it. She spent an hour sitting in his room arranging and rearranging herself on his bed, and then fiddling with the hem of her thin white shift, and then double-checking once again that she’d brought the contraceptive brew she bought in Jader with her. They weren’t about to have another incident like what happened his last night in Skyhold - half-naked already, all tangled limbs and panting breaths, murmuring words of desire, only to realize they had no contraception.

“When we see each other again,” she’d said solemnly to him, though solemn was hard to pull off when his hand was already sliding down her bare stomach. “Then we’ll - _oh_.”

It had given her something to think about over the last three months, beyond the panic still triggered by seemingly innocuous things (Papae’s face cast in a certain light that brought back memories of him as an enemy; her mind drifting to emptiness the exact way it did when Falon’Din took possession of her). There were books to read (books that made her so red-faced that once she came down to breakfast after reading and Mamae thought she had a fever). Daydreams to lose herself in, in-between writing letters to the various people and institutions who might give her some start on this next phase of her life.

But now, despite all that, her skin felt too tight and yet also buzzing with energy as she waited, like she was full of lyrium and just needed to cast to get rid of the excess. Her nerves were prickling, her ears straining for every sound. A set of footsteps came up the nearby stairs - and passed the door, growing fainter down the hall. She sat back, deflated.

But then he was there, the door opened quickly and then shut quickly behind him, and her lungs crowded up in her chest.

“Hello,” she said, as if they hadn’t already greeted each other earlier that day.

“Hello,” he said back, not moving from his place by the door.

She stood, but remained by the bed. It felt like she was seeing him for the first time that day, really. It was so different to be around each other with others present. It felt like having a secret, even if everyone knew they were involved; she pretended she wasn’t watching his hands when he spoke at dinner and wishing to feel them on her bare skin again, that her foot didn’t find its way up his thigh when she was laughing at a joke someone told. She pretended that his face wasn’t the only one she wanted to see, that his voice in all the noise wasn’t the only one that made her stomach twist with happiness. Now the secret hung in the moonlit air between them, and made her smile and walk to him. His arms went around her at once, his hand burying itself in her hair, and he kissed her as he hadn’t been able to earlier that day in the kitchen: eager and joyful, hands roving, mouths parted, until she was dizzy.

“Bed?” She asked when they broke apart.

“Someone’s eager,” he said with a quiet laugh. But when she slid her hands down to his rump and pulled him close she could feel exactly how eager _he_ was, and when he pulled back from her kiss he whispered: “I have been dreaming of this.”

“I know,” she said, smiling, finding the buckles on his robe.

“It’s cheating to spy on me in the Fade,” he said, though he returned her smile.

“I can’t help what you’re dreaming of when I come and find you,” she said.

 _This was it_. The thought circled in her mind again and again as she helped him out of the outer layer of his clothes, as his brown eyes met hers, bright with happiness and affection, his lips curling up in a smile each time their kisses ended. They were kneeling on the bed by the time he spoke again, only his smalls and her nightgown separating them.

“You have to tell me if there’s something you don't like. Something that makes you uncomfortable. Or if there’s something you want. Just - make sure you tell me.”

Ashara smiled. He’d said this before, of course, one night when they were discussing just this (they talked about many other things in the Fade, from his work with Maevaris to her theory about why mages were drawn to certain elements, but it did often circle back to… _this_ ). It still mattered that he found the time to say it now.

“Have I at some point given you the impression that I am a quiet person?”

He laughed quietly and began gathering up the nightgown ( _this is it_ ), his fingers brushing her thighs as he pushed it higher. “I guess not. Promise, anyway?”

“Of course. You too, you know. If I do something wrong… tell me. I did - read - and watch some memories in the Fade - but still. I might make a mistake.”

“I promise,” he said, pulling the nightgown over her head.

Lucius stared when the nightgown was off and for a moment it made her feel powerful and then it made her feel - well - exposed. Was she too lanky? Lacking the curves he was undoubtedly used to? She wanted to be desirable. What if she wasn’t desirable? He’d never really seen her naked before, not when there was no rush, when they were all alone and there was good enough lighting… She’d kept her arms above her head when the nightgown came off in a pose she hoped was alluring but then she curled into herself protectively.

“What?” She blurted.

Lucius shook his head and refocused his eyes - and then began tracing a finger over some invisible path - from her ear down to her collarbone and her ribs, down to her hip and along the outer part of her thigh, and weren’t those odd places to touch someone who was naked? Why didn't he palm her breasts or reach down for her ass or touch her as he had before, between her legs?

“I called you formosa before,” he said at last, eyes back on hers. “I didn't know how right I was. Void take me, but you’re beautiful.”

“Oh,” she managed, a sound that was closer to a squeak than she would have liked. Why hadn’t she tried a sultry laugh, or said something in return about how the expanse of his chest, the narrowness of his hips, the patch of dark hair that led to his smalls and the hard line she could see outlined in them made her heart race and her sex ache?

“Good?” He asked, settling his hands on her waist.

She focused on his face again. On him. On black hair and brown eyes and the face she’d seen every night in the Fade for the last three months. The person who made her feel like something could be good again when all else seemed lost, because he smiled at her.

“Good,” she said, and he smiled.

The kisses were good, too, soft and yielding and then desperate, teeth and tongue and sharp breaths. When he laid on top of her, skin on skin, she could already feel how rigid he was and how wet she was and this time there was no stopping and her stomach lurched, equal parts excitement and nerves, like crossing the Shining Sea again. Maybe this was like getting her sea legs - unsteady now but later steady, natural, as if she was born at sea...

“I want to taste you,” he said, pulling back.

“Yes,” she said at once, no hesitation here, the thing she’d wondered most about, the thing she’d planned on asking for and he offered it so easily, pressing lightly on her chest until she laid back, raining kisses along her breasts and stomach, pausing to suck at the places that made her breath catch, eyes flicking up to hers now and then, a half-smile on his face, whatever expression was on her face must have pleased him…

_Oh._

White-hot, that first clench in her belly when he mouthed at her, taking as much as he could in one go, tongue flicking at the seam of her, her hand flew to his head and _pressed_ . Then she pulled back, horrified, and apologized. There was some negotiation (“No, you _should_ do that - help show me what you like, just don't pull out all my hair”) and then he returned and it was everything she’d imagined - warm and soft and rhythmic, his tongue circling and then pressing and then dipping inside her (she hadn’t even _read_ about the possibility of that). She wasn't embarrassed at all by the noises he wrung from her, the way she writhed against him, the slick she felt dripping out of her, she just wanted all the heat and pressure skating around her belly to gather in one place, wanted to feel herself shatter beneath him in waves, and was she taking too long to get there? His mustache rasped against her tender skin. Would that overwhelm her before she could come? He sounded like he was enjoying himself, little grunts escaping him now and then, but maybe he was only being polite…

One of his hands snaked up and took hers and held it tight, and all the tension melted from her spine.

She relaxed against the covers and began to guide him with gestures and words (“Gentler - there - oh, that was good - _oh_ \- I think maybe faster now?”) until she felt the tension build and build, his tongue circling and circling, until he pulled her over the edge with a hard suck of his lips on her stiff pearl and she shuddered and clenched inside and everything was heat and light and he kept sucking her until she whimpered and pulled away.

“Good?” he asked again, sitting up, wiping the moisture from his face, and didn’t _that_ make her stomach flip. His eyes were dark, the pupils wide.

Ashara laughed. Good was an understatement. She was boneless with satisfaction. She wanted him to go back down and do it again. She wanted to kiss his face. She wanted to slink down the bed and take him in her mouth until he was the one bucking and crying out.

“Good,” she said, and opened her arms to welcome him back.

He pulled off his smalls at last before joining her, covering her body with his own, his skin warm, the hair on his chest and stomach and legs tickling her, and _him_ , hot and hard between them, rocking gently. She reached down between them and he groaned at the feeling of her hand circling him, pumping once, and then angling him towards her.

“Ready?” She asked.

“If you are,” he said.

Ready. Ready as always for something new, to _know_ at last what it was like to be one with someone else, to test what it would feel like, to know what kind of lover she would be.

He pressed against her and for one blinding instant she thought _it won’t work, he won’t fit, I should have bought that oil, too_ but then he slid past and she gasped at the sensation - so full, so aware suddenly of the world inside her, of every little nerve he rubbed against. But he’d stopped there and dropped his head to the pillow with a soft sound, and then something ragged in Tevene. It was so good, so strange - he couldn’t stop there. She shifted and she could feel him in her at the motion, could feel how she might be able to draw him deeper if she - just -

“Let me go slow, formosa,” he said raising himself up again. “You’re so -”

More Tevene, but he drove his hips forward and pushed _deeper_ and she gasped because it burned a little, this joining, but it was so _good_ , too, so close - so full - and then deeper still and they both let out a shuddering breath and she clutched to his back and lifted her hips towards him without thought and she could feel it now, how their bellies were pressed together - he was as deep as he could go. She wanted to move, wanted to feel that slow slide again, wanted to know what it was like when they moved faster, if she would feel it when he came…

“Ash,” he said quietly, and she opened her eyes and saw him, lips parted, eyes still wide and dark, hair mussed. A tide of emotion hit her, so strong it was overwhelming - this wasn’t just about the feel of skin on skin, her breasts pressed against him, the scent of them - this was the closest she’d ever been to another person. The most open, the most vulnerable.

“Ma’lath,” she said, and kissed him hard.

Then he _moved_ , slow and sure and she could feel every inch, so foreign and new and raw, she chased after it but she was clumsy, interrupting the rhythm he was trying to build.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he said, already lifting one of them over his hip, showing her what he meant, and even that changed the angle, made her toss her head back and sigh, and it made Lucius sigh too, his breath hitching. He rocked into her, short little thrusts that built up friction, and then one deeper one, more force behind it, and then a series of longer deeper ones, watching her all the while. So good, so right, pressure building deep inside her like before, she wanted him to _move_ \- then he started to grow more tense, his eyes shutting tight.

“Maker, you feel so good - I will not last -”

And the tenderness that swelled up in her then at the need in his voice, more powerful than the heat and wet between her thighs - it was so easy to wrap arms and legs tight around him and whisper in his ear, rocking up to meet each thrust as he went faster, harder, but only for a little while, before he drove deep and stayed there, crying out. He was coming, and just the thought made Ashara’s blood pound as she kept rocking, trying to draw it out for him until he relaxed at last.

And - that was it, she supposed. Sex. It was and wasn't what she thought it would be. It was no great change, she thought, lying there contentedly beneath him, one hand scratching at the short hair on the back of his head. She wasn't any different. But now she knew what it felt like to move together as one, to feel her body bring him over that edge, to lie here, so close and sated, warm and aching. Happy. She could look at him now and know they had shared something irreplaceable together. It wasn’t as emotional as she thought it might have been - maybe because she was so focused on how new everything felt...

“I didn't mean for it to be over so quickly,” Lucius said at last, sheepish, not lifting his head.

“It felt good,” she assured him. “So good. We could always… do it again, right? There were some more things I read about that I wanted to try.”

“Of course, amata. Just give me a little while to recover.” He slid free of her then, a strange sensation all on its own, and then she was empty without him. He glanced down at where they’d been joined. “No pain?”

“Just a little sore. Did I bleed?”

“Not that I can see.”

He stayed hovering over her, looking down into her eyes, and suddenly she had no idea what to say. It wasn’t exactly something the books covered, after all. A nervous giggle escaped her before she could stop herself and Lucius raised his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, though it didn’t stop the giggles. But it did get him to ask again, and again, peppering her neck and shoulders and ears with kisses, his fingers finding sensitive spots on her ribs and stomach until she squealed, and he hushed her and reminded her to be quiet. Somehow his mouth found its way to the peak of one breast and a sharp tug of his teeth against it made her make another loud sound - though it wasn’t a squeal this time.

“Quiet, remember?” He said, before he went to the other breast, and then back up to her ears, kissing and nipping until she was biting her lip, until his hand found its way between her legs again, and then his cock, sliding in so easily this time. And then he could really move - and she could ask him with a murmured word to flip over so she was above him, looking down at him as she took him, as he helped her find a rhythm she liked, as the pleasure pooled low in her stomach and his hands got tight on her hips and on a whim she reached out to his aura with her own.

He pushed back and she opened herself to him the way only another mage could, and he slid into the center of her power like a diver into the ocean, because it was wide as the sea - she shuddered, felt lost briefly in the tangle of his raw magic, different from her own, and when she bent down to kiss him she would have sworn he tasted like the Fade now, like lyrium, tangy and rich. She felt him everywhere, all at once.

“Fuck,” he said when she drew back, pulling at her hips, urging her faster, his face twisted up in pleasure. She tipped her head back and lost herself in both sensations, physical and magical, riding him until her cunt tightened hard around him and she cried out, fell forward, shaking with each wave of her climax, feeling his own vibrate through their mana and through the frantic beating of his heart.

She lay on top of him for a while, too satisfied to move, until at last he gently rolled them to their sides and looped an arm around her waist. He pressed soft kisses to her forehead and ran his fingers through her curls. She should have wrapped them, she realized, but she was too comfortable now, too enraptured by this feeling of connection, of smiling up at him, thinking _this must be love_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I alllmost put in Ellana, Solas, Dorian, and Bull joking about their first times, but good lord that conversation started getting long. Onward!


	28. Epilogue, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything in this chapter is SFW.

_This must be love_. It was the thought that lingered the next morning when Ashara woke to hear Lucius still sleeping beside her beside her (which probably marked the first time in her entire life that she hadn't woken up on her birthday and felt an immediate thrill at that thought alone). Just the sound of his calm, even breathing made her grin before she’d even opened her eyes. Not exactly how she imagined the feeling, of course, but she’d learned well enough that the world wasn’t always what she expected. She wondered how she should tell him, or if she should wait. What if it wasn’t what he was feeling?

She sat up in bed and played through various scenarios, wondering if it would be better to say it in person (they were staying for a week, after all), or if it was the sort of thing one could confess in the Fade. Was an ordinary moment better, or did it have to be something special and planned out in advance? She’d only generated more questions by the time Lucius stirred at her side and rolled onto his side to face her. She didn’t even notice him at first, until he reached out and rested a hand on her thigh.

“You shouldn’t be thinking so loudly so early in the morning, you know.”

“Sorry, I was just… thinking about the future.” She felt her face heat up, part embarrassment that she hadn’t noticed him, part happiness that he’d woken up and been content just to look at her.

“You seemed to have it quite figured out yesterday afternoon,” he said as he stretched and sat up beside her, running a hand through his hair to rearrange it. It looked good the way he’d gotten it cut, but she found herself missing the loose curls that formed at the end of their time together in Skyhold.  “There are many opportunities waiting for you. You said you only needed to decide what order you wanted to do those things in, right?”

_Only_. He made it sound easy. How to balance what she wanted to do with getting to see her parents? To see him? With what helped the most people? With what helped her the most? She had no idea where to begin.

“Yes,” she said. “Although, I’ve been thinking… if I can get the reading lists for the courses on Fade theory that I’m interested in, I could persuade the lecturer to let me send my thoughts in by letter. I could visit them in their dreams if they preferred that. And, if they accept my help guiding new immigrants to and from Enasan, I could offer to work with the group that’s based here in Tevinter…”

Lucius stiffened at her side, his jaw tightening. It wasn’t the reaction she expected. She felt cold now, and drew the comforters closer around herself.

“What?” She asked.

“Is that really what you want?”

“Of course. I said already that I want to do _everything_ I mentioned. And this way I could do what I didn’t say in front of everyone else.” She took his hand and held it tight. “This way I could see you.”

But she felt it even as she said the words - the splinter of doubt worrying inside her. Four months ago - a year ago - she would have believed it without hesitation. She could have everything she wanted, as long as she worked hard enough. She got what she set out for when she left for Tevinter. Mamae was safe. But she had seen nightmares in the flesh, risked the lives of everyone she cared about, learned the lie lurking at the center of her family and her country. What would be the consequence now, of pursuing everything she wanted? Where was she overreaching? And of course the fear showed on her face, of course Lucius saw it and gave voice to it.

“Claudia said something to me back in Skyhold. She said we were both looking for something, and that we might be able to find it together - but that if we weren’t careful, all we would do is hurt each other.”

“We won’t,” she said, like the force of her voice could push the splinter away. “We won’t let it happen.”

Lucius looked down at their clasped hands.

“Don’t hold yourself back,” he said. “Not because of me.”

“I wouldn’t,” she rushed to say again. “You know me. Nothing can keep me from the things I want.”

“I know.”

Ashara took a breath. One fear pushed aside. But she could be open with him about others, right? Wasn’t the point of being in love?

“But it’s hard, isn’t it?” She said at last. “To know exactly what you want. It’s harder than anyone lets on.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I thought I wanted one thing before I met you. I thought I would give up anything to get it. Now? I know that life would not have made me happy. I couldn't have spent forever trampling on others just to get what I wanted. Nothing is worth that.”

Ashara became sharply aware of the weight of his arms, the mingled scent of their skin, the growling in her stomach, the scratchiness of the sheets. But she was aware, too, of how she felt lighter when she moved yet closer to him, tossing one leg over his, and lighter still when he shifted to accommodate her, making sure they fit together. Lighter and lighter and lighter still, thinking of his gentleness, of how he did not falter no matter where their journey together led, how this was the one thing she wanted only for herself when she left home: to find someone who made her feel this way.

“You make me happy,” she said at last.

“You make me happy,” he echoed, arms tightening.

“Then that’s settled. We’ll be together until the day we don’t make each other happy anymore,” she said. Another splinter at the thought, digging sharply, shallowly into her chest. “And maybe that day never comes.”

“Agreed.”

They shared a kiss, and then another, and another, until they started to hear the house stirring.

“We should go down,” Lucius said.

“Just a little longer,” Ashara said.

They slid back under the covers and entwined themselves again, sharing absent kisses, speaking little. Ashara was almost asleep again, the tingling fingers of the Fade pulling at her mind while Lucius lay at her side running his fingers along her leg, when he spoke.

"This is new for me," he said quietly. "I've lain with other women. You knew that already. But - none of them stayed. None of them wanted anything more."

She pulled back from the temptation of sleep and caught hold of his hand, raising it to her lips and then pressing it to her chest so he could feel the steady thump of her heart.

"We'll be new together, then."

Eventually there were enough sounds coming from downstairs that they knew their tryst needed to end for now. Ashara wondered who was up. Maybe Mamae and Papae already. Papae making her tea, Mamae kissing his cheek before taking the cup, stepping effortlessly out of his way as he prepared their breakfast, asking about his dreams, making plans for the day while he worked. How did you get from here to there? From uncertainty and hope to their rituals, and a connection true as bone?

She would find out, she decided as they dressed for the day. This was the ending she wanted, and she would have it. Not through force of will - through careful attention, through patience, through openness. It was a new year in her life, one she would not waste on fear.

*

Solas didn’t remember his own birthday - or, more accurately, had never known it. Such things were of little importance in Elvhenan. Ellana had a similar attitude - she knew she was born in the summer, but not the month or day, as the Dalish likewise spared little focus for such affairs. It was a surprise to both of them, then, how much emphasis they came to place on Ashara’s birthday. As the years went on, it was a bigger surprise to Solas that his own parents had never bothered to mark the date of his birth. How could they fail to? The day Ashara was born was the day he went from father in the abstract - the man who’d gotten Ellana with child - to father in the most real sense - the man holding an infant girl in his arms, knowing she was utterly dependent on him. It was as important a day for him as it was for his daughter.

Ashara loved her birthday, particularly the little game Ellana seemed bent on playing every year - denying it was her birthday at all, pretending she would refuse her treats and presents, until the ‘exact’ moment of her actual birth. So he was surprised when they came down to the living spaces of the villa and found that while several people were awake, Ashara was not among them, already wheedling with her mother for a sweeter breakfast than usual, eyes casting around for some sign of what present would be hers.

“I think she might still be asleep,” Claudia said slowly when he asked if anyone had seen her. “But I could go check?”

Why the hesitation?

Oh.

Of course. The little charade the night before, pretending she and Lucius weren’t going to bed at the same time.

His mood soured, and not only because he himself had a slight headache. Too much wine and not enough water - what an elementary lesson to forget. He was far from the only one with that problem, though, and he was faring better than Dorian, who’d come down for tea and bread and immediately gone back upstairs, grumbling about the cruelties of age. It was natural, Solas reminded himself, that things changed with age. Someday Ashara would not even be there to celebrate her birthday with them, if all her grand plans worked out.

“Stop scowling and come help me,” Ellana said softly when she drew near to him. It was time for hearthcakes, and it would take them much longer than usual if they were to make them for everyone present.

They were still in the kitchen working when they heard the peal of Ashara’s laughter in the dining room, and the lower rumble of Lucius’ in reply. When they emerged with the hearthcakes she was leaning up against his side with happy familiarity, smiling at him, though her attention was immediately drawn by the platter of cakes when they appeared in her line of sight.

“You made them! I wasn’t sure. Where is the honey? And the berries?”

“Not even a good morning?” Ellana said, shaking her head. “I don’t think any of these are for you.”

“On dhea, Mamae,” she said, as sweetly as she could.

“I still don’t see why you think you get special hearthcakes today,” she sighed, even as she put down the special plate she’d carried in, featuring three hearthcakes already piled high with berries and drizzled with honey.

Ashara dug in with glee, pausing only once she realized that Lucius had not tried these yet, not even at Skyhold, and then she cut him off a piece of her own, swirled it carefully in honey and speared a ripe berry, and fed it to him. She watched with rapt attention as he ate it. Then he made an appreciative sound and tried to take the rest of her cakes, something she took with great offense, though her eyes still glowed with happiness as she swatted him away.

It was - sweet, Solas supposed, in its naive way, the way she played at being in love. She certainly didn't even see it as playing; but he knew, in his bones, that this was infatuation and no more. He wondered when she would realize that.

Or -

If there was one thing fatherhood had taught him, it was how little was within his control, and how careful he had to be not to cling to his own ideas of who and what his child should be (like that nonsense with applying to the academy for Dirth'ena Enasalin. She was no soldier - but maybe...). Perhaps he was seeing what he wanted to see right now - Ashara, still a girl, not possibly old enough to know this kind of love. Time would tell.

The hearthcakes were devoured, and there was enough pleading for more that he and Ellana went back to the kitchen for a second round, working in companionable silence. Solas was drawn into further reverie, remembering when they first shared a home together and realized that neither of them had any idea how to cook anything. Another thing they’d learned together over these years, and another tradition they’d developed; him, standing over the hot pan and cooking the cakes, and her, standing behind him, arm loosely around his waist, her head pillowed against his shoulder.

There was enough bustle and conversation around the table that Ashara didn’t get the chance to engage in her next favorite birthday activity, which was attempting to guess what gifts she would receive. In fact, the various parties assembled were beginning to make their own plans for the day when Dorian interrupted them.

“Aren’t we forgetting to ask someone’s opinion? I mean, we all know that people born on _this_ day of Drakonis are inferior to those born yesterday, but…”

“Oh, it's fine,” Ashara said. “I don't need to be the center of attention. I’m just happy everyone is here.”

Several different expeditions were organized - mushroom collecting for dinner, games on the lawn behind the house, and a small chess tournament, which he himself gladly partook in, hoping for a chance to play against Bull for the first time in years. Lucius, Ashara, and Claudia took Maevaris’s youngest child, a boy of fourteen, outside to practice the rudimentary spells he was learning. Their laughter broke in now and then, and though there was a chill in the air that day, no one moved to close the windows.

Now and then Ashara came in to make her case for opening a gift early, and every time Ellana rebuffed her, smiling (“If you wanted presents at lunch time, maybe you should have decided to be born at noon instead of making me wait!”). Eventually she and Lucius came back inside and found a nearby couch to occupy as they read, Lucius sitting up, Ashara draped across the other side of the couch, her feet resting in his lap.

Solas couldn’t say the exact moment the afternoon light shifted into the one he recognized from the day Ashara was born - that rich gold hue that illuminated the room at the moment that she slid into the midwife’s hands, squalling, the one that lit up the curve of her soft cheek and the angle of her pointed ear when he held her for the first time. He simply looked up from the chessboard, his mind turning over how to trap Bull next, and saw it, and felt his throat tighten as it did that day.

Ellana had seen it too. She went over to where Ashara was reclining and leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

“Happy birthday, da’vhenan,” she said softly. No more teasing or games now. Just a mother’s quiet joy.

They passed the rest of the day like that, drifting from one activity to another, gently teasing, sharing stories, readying the garden and the dining room for another round of celebration, and Solas found himself standing apart, watching. Not because he did not belong, but because of a realization that took hold of him, now and again, in this Veiled world: this day is fleeting, and it will never come again. So he watched, hoping to etch these people as they were now into his mind forever, to remember this day as what it was: a moment of change. A time when things were beginning again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to miss writing these guys so much. I have a pretty good idea of what happens over the next five years of their lives, but I’m not sure how strong of a story it would make (or, more accurately, how the story would fit together), so this is good-bye for now, but you never know. You can always share your thoughts on the matter! For now, thank you so much for reading!


	29. Epiloge, Part Three*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the third part to the epilogue, which no one asked for, but I couldn’t help myself. It centers entirely on Lucius and Ashara (and a little on what Ashara is doing with her life now, and how that fits into some of the politics of Thedas), so if you aren’t interested in what happens with their relationship in the long run, you can ignore it.
> 
> There are two shortish explicit parts, both starting at ** asterisks and ending at *** asterisks. You can skip them without missing anything other than feels!

Lucius returned from Dorian’s villa to his new life in Minrathous in the daze that had accompanied the last three months of his life. The only things that pierced that daze were the pangs of sorrow at leaving Ashara behind after week spending nearly every moment in her presence - but, actually, wasn’t that part of the daze of happiness? The fact that this woman, so bright, so passionate, so determined, chose him?

When he saw her each night in the Fade he could feel the stab of that pain coming from her, too. The touch of her hand in the realm of spirits was enough to remind him of what he missed in waking - not enough to quell the ache. And more than a kiss or a touch of her hand, she assured him with a sad look, was not safe.

“Well - we could _try_ ,” she admitted. “But I wouldn’t quite know how to keep us safe while I was - distracted. And I am _not_ asking my father for advice on that. And after everything that happened…”

Even in the Fade, he could see the darkness in her eyes at the thought. He could remember her eyes flashing blue with unearthly light, the sound of a second voice coming from her mouth.

“Of course,” he said at once. “It’s not worth the risk.”

He did his best not to feel too sad for missing her in his waking hours. He already had so much more than he deserved - not just a patron, but one as kind and encouraging as Maevaris Tilani, one who opened her home to him and made him part of a family again, complete with scoldings and mischief and loud communal meals. He’d never missed Erast so much - or felt so close to the ghosts of his past. His research progressed well - and every night there was Ashara, with some new memory to share, an idea she wanted his thoughts on, or a smile and a kiss and a ghostly meal. He could settle into this, he thought, without thinking of the future.

Then came a night when he was scarcely in his own dream before Ashara drew him into one of her own creation, a beautiful ruin in what he could only assume was the Arbor Wilds. The sunlight was so bright it blinded - a reaction, he’d learned, to whatever Ashara was feeling.

“They’ve accepted me,” she said at once. “I’m going to be helping new immigrants! There are still some preparations to make here in Enasan but within a fortnight I’ll be on my way -”

“Hold on, amata,” he said, a chuckle lacing the words. “Who has accepted you? Oh, what were they called again - Vir-something, isn’t it?”

“Vir’anor, yes,” Ashara said, impatiently. “The Way Home. The group that works to help elves immigrate to Enasan. I’ll be helping protect the other agents as well as the immigrants from any potential threats along our journey, developing contacts in Orlais and Nevarra and Tevinter, teaching the immigrants about their new home, helping them settle in… Unfortunately, the university won’t let me take classes by correspondence like I hoped, but I have a friend who is taking some of the classes and she said she’d tell me which books to buy before I leave - I can study on my own, and maybe someday prove to them what I’ve learned… I can’t forget to find out tomorrow which bookseller in the city carries the right texts…”

The speed at which her mind worked often dizzied him, and he smiled, warmth blooming in his chest, at the sight of her weaving plans.

“Oh!” She said, coming back to the present moment. “But the best part, obviously, is that the group I will work with directly works primarily in Tevinter! Straight out of Minrathous!”

“Truly?”

“I’ll spend a lot of time on the road, but I was told that we typically spend a fortnight to a month in Minrathous when we arrive, resupplying and checking in with contacts and making sure the elves we’re working with are ready to leave. I’ll have things to do, but so will you, but we’ll still be able to see each other several times a year.” She took both his hands and even in the dream he could feel the warmth of her touch, the excitement that made her hold them tight. “It won’t even be that long before my first trip. No more than two months, I think, and I’ll be in Minrathous.”

“That’s wonderful news. I will count the days until then.” It was hard to believe he could say such things now, so openly full of emotion. She just smiled in reply, and kissed him at last, and then remembered that she hadn’t even asked how his day had gone, and they fell into the rhythm of the nights they shared.

Lucius managed to see Claudia the next day, a long-promised lunch that kept getting delayed now that the newly-minted Enchanter was busy involving herself in Minrathous’s politics. He shared Ashara’s news, and she took it in with a slow nod.

“That’s a worthy cause, I suppose. There will always be elves who long to immigrate to Enasan, and they deserve that chance. I only wonder - how much of what this Vir’anor does is encouraging our citizens to leave, even those who have never considered it?”

Lucius balked.

“I didn’t ask. And what if they did?”

“I’ve been looking into these trends, actually. You know I want to help Dorian with his work to improve living standards for all of the Imperium’s citizens, elves included. So much of that work relies on getting humans in power to see that elves are not so different from us after all. But if more and more elves leave Tevinter, and Nevarra, and Antiva, and Ferelden, and Orlais, and the Free Marches - if we raise a generation of humans who barely know any elves - how will we ever combat the stereotypes that surround them? If they all live far away in Enasan, and isolate themselves as they once did with the kingdom of the Dales - what chance will we have for a different future?”

Lucius absorbed her words in silence. She took another drink, and then continued.

“Then again, it only makes sense for Enasan to want to bolster their ranks. They are a small, young country living on land that many Orlesians still consider stolen - and Empress Celene, and all the people Ellana worked with for so long, are not so young anymore. They will need more people of all walks of life in the future.”

“What are you saying? That Ashara is part of some conspiracy?” Lucius said at last, his words sharp.

“No. You know her as well as I do - better, I would hope. I doubt she’s thought of it that way. She just sees this as helping people in need, I’d bet. I’m saying that I think she’s becoming involved in something that will have consequences beyond what she sees.” Claudia folded her hands on the table. “Her parents, on the other hand…”

Lucius felt his appetite decreasing. “I think you’re being overly paranoid.”

“Tell me something, then,” she said. “Do you think they were telling us the truth about what happened? Do you think Ashara is?”

She didn’t need to elaborate for him to know what she meant. Lucius thought back to Ashara’s words the day before they left Skyhold. _There are things I can’t tell you yet. Not now. Maybe ever._ He looked at Claudia, dark brown eyes focused on him, full lips set in a straight line, her career in the Magisterium just beginning to unfold before her.

“Yes,” he lied.

Claudia sighed. “Well then. I’m sorry to have brought down the mood. I just - I want what’s best for Tevinter. They want what’s best for Enasan. Those things will not always be the same. Even Dorian knows that.”

The rest of their lunch was stilted, and neither of them made plans to meet up again when it was done. Lucius returned home and busied himself with his latest research, with helping one of the Tilani children with a particularly thorny school assignment, with planning where he would take Ashara on the first day she arrived, until the bitter taste left his mouth.

True to her word, Ashara arrived two months after she first told him of her new assignment. He thought he might start floating at the sight of her walking up the path to the Tilani’s house, an absurd feeling, but perhaps he half-expected to be in the Fade because she was there. But then she was in his arms, warm and slight and already tilting her face up searching for his lips, and he knew it wasn’t a dream.

“Your hair,” he said at once, and then laughed, touching the shockingly short curls, which extended a scant inch past her scalp.

“I know,” she said mournfully. “I gave in. I see why Mamae and Vivienne kept it like this during their Inquisition days now. It’s just too much work when you’re constantly traveling.”

It made her look a little older he thought, eyes drinking in the sight of her. A little more like either of her parents, too, depending on which details you focused on. He wondered how they felt now that she was far away once more.

She had two weeks, she said, and then they would make their return trip. He intended to make the most of those two weeks, in-between their respective duties. He managed to take her to see a play at one of the more modest theatres in Minrathous, showed her some of the ancient sites she had not seen when she first stayed there, arranged for a visit to the countryside outside Minrathous to see ruins rumored to belong to the time of Elvhenan. They had dinner with Dorian and Bull and Claudia, of course, and there was no trace of the bitterness from the last time he saw her.

But always, no matter what they were doing, they soaked up each other’s presence. Lingering touches and long glances. He never thought that simply standing near someone could make him thrum from head to toe, whatever the songs and stories said, that just hearing her voice could make him feel more at peace, more at home. But there he was.

In the quiet time they found together, alone in his room or in hers, they shared things of themselves they hadn’t had the chance to before. Stories and fears and beliefs. She taught him Elvhen, or tried to. It was a difficult language, full of double-meanings and implications that she could expand on for seemingly hours at a time. Her progress with Tevene wasn't much better, its endless tenses and declensions leaving her glassy-eyed with confusion, but that wasn't the point of the lessons. The point was that they were laughing, and sharing, and if correcting pronunciation led to touching her lips, or kissing her - well…

**

Sex with Ashara was what he expected, in all the best ways, and nothing like sleeping with any of the other women he’d known. She was so thoughtful, so intense - her brows always furrowed, not in pleasure but in concentration. Everything was a conversation and an experiment:

“Does it feel good like this?”

“Yes.”

A swivel of her hips - a shudder.

“And like this?”

He forgot to breathe for a moment; his groan when she did it again was proof enough, and she smiled, and kept doing it.

She’d change tactics suddenly, one minute begging him not to stop fucking her with his fingers (and to hear her say it like that - such coarse words from her pretty mouth) and then instants later she’d pull away, push him onto his back, and snake down between his legs and _suck_. And then she would have moments of such piercing shyness, too, when she got too loud or scratched too hard, and he got to kiss that shyness away, reassure her with a word or a hard thrust exactly how much he loved seeing her undone.

And when she did let go - when it was no longer a conversation or an experiment but instead two people dissolving into one another, breathing each other’s air, feeling each throb and each sigh like there was nothing else in the world - she was electric, and bare, and vulnerable, and flushed, and _his_. He could look into her blue eyes afterwards and see that her ever-turning mind was still at last.

“I love you,” she whispered one night, when he was looking down at her, their bodies still hot, still connected.

“I love you, too,” he said.

He hadn't said the words to anyone since his family died.

***

She had to go away again after the night she said she loved him. Another group of elves was ready for escort. She kissed him quickly on her way out the door, flashed him a smile, and was gone.

In the days that followed the haze returned, though with a different quality, he found. She didn't seem real when she wasn't there, suddenly. Maybe it was because Minrathous didn't change without her. His days went on as they usually did. Surely the world had never had such color as it did when she was there - surely it was a trick, just like how the Fade abruptly became more real when she was there each night.

“I miss you,” he said.

“I know,” she said. “But soon I will come back. Well, I promised Mamae and Papae I would stay at least an extra week in Enasan, and we have some business to attend to in the capital anyway - but then I will return. Soon.”

But she didn't say that she missed him. Not until the next night, when it was the first thing she said.

“I miss you too.”

The words were all a rush. She’d held them back all day. He wondered when she’d realized that she didn't say it the night before. Sometime in-between an argument with an innkeeper who called them filthy knife-ears and refused to let them stay the night, and meeting a traveling group of minstrels who regaled them all night at their makeshift camp. Her days changed so much, and he saw the joy of that in her eyes. She got to see Nevarra and its necropolis, Orlais and its golden roofs, and then her home, in all its glory. Maybe it was just easier for her to forget the ache in her chest at being away from him.

“I can't wait to show you Enasan in the waking world someday,” she said when she brought him to her family home in the Fade. “I don't know anywhere else in Thedas where you can get Orlesian crepes for breakfast and then go see an Antivan play performed using ancient Elvhen magic, pray in a Chantry that has an altar to Mythal next door, and end the day eating a freshly caught Dalish roast under the stars.”

“Do you want to live in Enasan forever?” he asked.

“I don't know. I can't imagine living anywhere forever.”

Dread bloomed in him, a tiny thing, something he could crush for now.

A year passed that way, with the rhythm of her coming and going, joy and then emptiness. He drew near to being named Enchanter - she helped dozens of elves find new homes, expounded on her own theories on the Fade, university classes or no - and when they could they came together, the days always brief and blinding and perfect. Perfect for now, that is. They didn’t talk about it much, but he knew there would come a time when that rhythm would end, and instead settle into something more permanent, and Lucius began making plans.

Magister Tilani had arranged a meeting with a guild of influential mages who were interested in funding his continued research, provided they got a percentage of any profits that came from its applications. He started looking for a place to live, although Maevaris insisted that he was still welcome in their family home for as long as liked. But he could see it now: his own cozy little flat, a place to begin building something that was his. And maybe, someday - theirs? Not yet, of course. He needed more time to build something of himself, to put away a little money, to make sure his prospects were truly secure, but then…

Were there elven customs for betrothals? There almost certainly were. Would Solas and Ellana expect him to seek their blessing? It might take him another year to work up the courage for that alone. He had not seen them in person in the year that had passed, though once or twice Ashara brought him to one of their dreams to say hello. They were unfailingly polite on those occasions - but there was a distance. They were not cool to him, but they were not warm either. Ellana did apologize once for not being able to travel to Tevinter alongside her daughter to visit him and Dorian and Bull and Claudia - her long battle had left her still weak. Her journey back to Enasan from Tevinter a year before had shown that.

“I did lose an arm to the Anchor,” Ellana said when he expressed his concern. “There were going to be consequences to this. It could have been much worse.”

He didn’t need that reminder. Not when Ashara still woke panicking from dreams she couldn’t control, or in waking had a memory so vivid of Arlathan and its horrors that it stopped her in her tracks, and even the touch of his hand couldn’t draw her back.

Even setting aside Ashara’s parents, there was the matter of her age - not ordinarily something he thought much about, but maybe she considered herself too young to settle down, and maybe she was right - she was twenty-one to his twenty-six. It was well that there was time, then, time to sort all of this out. For now it only mattered that he’d never felt so at peace, so completed, so sure of what he wanted. The rest would come.

“Oh,” was all Ashara said when he told her he’d found a modest flat in a quiet outer neighborhood of Minrathous.

“You can stay as long as you like, of course, when you return to Tevinter,” he said, his nerves prickling at her response.

She shook her head, recalling herself. “Of course. I’m happy for you, ma’lath.”

And she was happy when she arrived. She beamed and examined every corner of the flat and he could picture her there, in the mornings, only wearing that loose silk dressing gown she bought in Orlais on her last trip, stretching and greeting the sun, making their plans for the day. She would want more bookshelves of course. Perhaps her father could paint them something for the walls. There was a small market a few streets over from his flat and as they walked there in search of something to eat that evening he could imagine this becoming a ritual, knowing the names of the vendors, his hand resting comfortably on her back as she haggled with them -

“That’s a pretty piece of flesh, isn’t it? How much do you think she cost him?”

“Oh, you know it's illegal to buy knife-ears now.”

“Doesn't mean that no one's selling.”

With every word the two men spoke, Lucius felt his stomach sink. Their voices were pitched to carry. There were footsteps nearby. Were they following? He looked down at Ashara. She spoke just enough Tevene now that she might -

“Let’s walk a little faster,” she said quietly, her gaze pointed carefully at her feet.

“Hey - rabbit -”

The man spoke Trade now. They picked up their pace.

“When he's done with you, we’ll be waiting here for you. Make sure he doesn’t wear you out too much!”

Ashara still looked down, her eyes hard, her fists tight. Lucius felt the anger coiling in him and the magic with it, and he turned before he consciously had the idea to do so.

“You will not speak to her that way,” he spat. Magic gathered in his palm, the warm bulk of a barrier lurked just beneath his skin, waiting to be cast, and beside him he felt the flare of Ashara’s magic too.

“Lucius, no,” she said harshly. “Keep walking.”

She propelled him away before he could react, quickening their step with a touch of magic, so the voices faded faster, so the rock one of the men threw fell far short of its target.

They tried to enjoy the market but they had no appetite now. Lucius’ other senses were heightened, searching for any sign of the two men in the crowds.

“Let’s leave,” Ashara said after their second, nervous lap.

They took a different route back to his flat. On the way she insisted again and again that it wasn’t his fault, no matter how much he apologized.

“It happens everywhere. It just makes me grateful for Enasan,” she said finally. “I can’t imagine - there used to be nowhere for my people to go to get away from such treatment. It’s why I do what I do. We are so lucky now.”

He lay awake that night in his bed while she slept safely beside him, and knew that it would never be _their_ bed. Not this one. He couldn’t ask her to live like that every day, knowing there was a place in Thedas where she didn’t have to. And what opportunities would there be for her here? The Circles in the Imperium were only just now taking elven pupils - they might not even recognize that she was already an Enchanter by her people’s standards, and where would that leave her? He was a fool for not thinking of it before, for losing himself in daydreams.

Over the course of the next week she spent with him, he tried to imagine instead what it would be like to live in Enasan at her side. Would he be the subject of stares or snide comments or slurs? She insisted it wouldn't happen when he asked, casually, what life was like for non-elves in her country. She told him that there was a decent minority of humans there, usually the spouses or children of elves. And wasn't that something else to think about? If - and this was an if that made him dizzy - if they did have children, they would be human. How would she feel about that? How would her parents feel?

The slender tendril of dread that bloomed all those months ago began to grow, no matter how much she laughed, no matter how many kisses he stole, no matter how often she assured him that everything was fine.

*

Ashara was a restless person. When he first met her, he thought it was her anxiety over her mother, the speed with which she needed to find a cure. More than a year into their relationship, he knew it was simply part of her. She’d spent a year without staying in one place longer than than a month, always traveling, always moving, always meeting someone new, and yet she was growing restless once more. When she arrived back in Minrathous he could read it in the way she drummed her fingers on any available surface, the lack of enthusiasm in the stories she told of her most recent journey, the way she stared out of windows with her eyebrows drawn together.

“There’s so much else I could be seeing and doing,” she admitted finally when he asked what was wrong. “I see notices on Chantry boards in every town asking for help. I sit in taverns and hear stories of ruins that no one has dared explore for centuries. I spend one night in a place with fascinating memories and I don’t have the freedom to stay for days and keep exploring them. I’m - grateful for what I do. I make a difference, and I know that, and I have gained experience I wouldn’t have otherwise. It gives me the chance to see more of Thedas than I could with most other lines of work. But I don’t know that I want to do it forever.”

“What do you want to do forever?” He asked, the words coiling tight around his heart, equal parts anticipation and fear.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “How can anyone know that?”

There was a pressure crowded close under his ribs - questions he didn’t dare to ask. He thought back to the images he’d cherished - a home of their own, a lifetime of her at his side - and they were dimmer than before.

But it was an unthinkable idea while she was with him, seeking his touch at every opportunity, listening intently to his latest achievements - it couldn’t be over. There was nothing wrong between them. There were moments of distance, sometimes, when he could tell that there were thoughts and feelings she didn’t share, but they did not argue like the couple he could hear through the walls of his flat, shouting and blaming and cursing. She was a match for him in so many ways - even if she was more than he deserved. It was silly to think it should be over just because he saw a different future for the moment. Who knew how her own vision of the future would change?

How long did he want to wait for it to change?

“I wish you would come with me,” she said the day she had to leave again. “We can always use another mage. We’ve run into more trouble lately. Bandits trying to rob us. Zealots who hate Enasan. It’s getting worse in Orlais, now that they say Celene will die soon. We may have to start going through Ferelden instead, and crossing the mountains into Enasan.”

“I can’t leave my work here,” he said.

“But why?” She asked. There was genuine confusion on her face. What about this could be confusing?

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“You can do your research and experiments anywhere, can’t you? We have downtime in the evenings and sometimes we spend a day or two in cities and towns. You could do it then.”

How could she not understand?

“But I have patrons here, people who are paying to see the progress of my work. They will abandon me if I leave Minrathous.”

“But isn’t the discovery itself the part that matters? Not the money?”

“Of course the money matters. I don’t have powerful parents to fall back on if I get tired of wandering the world. I need to build -”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“No, but you have to admit that you’re much luckier than I am in that regard. I don’t have the same options that you take for granted.”

He didn’t know exactly at what point he raised his voice. Only that it rang in his ears now. Only that there was anger and hurt in Ashara’s eyes that he’d never seen before. Only that her lips were moving without sound. Only that she turned, and began gathering her things.

“Ashara,” he said. And then again: “Ashara.”

She left without another word.

Lucius spent the day that followed sick with grief. He shouldn’t have said those things. He shouldn’t have raised his voice. But was any of it false? He didn’t resent her for her lucky birth, and knew all the ways it was less than lucky. But he didn’t have it, either. He would not follow her around the world, and she would not stay here in Tevinter.

They could mend it, he knew. He could pretend it didn’t matter. And maybe it didn’t for now. Not for this year, or for the next - but someday, they would end up back in the same place - or one of them would make the mistake of giving up everything they worked for. And when he thought of all the things he loved about her - her passion, her curiosity, her unbreakable determination to be a force for good for everyone around her - he could imagine nothing worse.

Ashara appeared before him that night in the Fade, and he could see by the look on her face that she was ready make amends - and he knew he couldn’t let her.

“We have to end this,” he said, and the Fade grew colder at the words.

“Lucius -” she began.

“We agreed on your twentieth birthday, Ash. We said that if we weren’t making each other happy anymore -”

“It was just one argument. I’m still happy - I still love you. We can find something that works -”

“No.”

The single, soft word shocked her more than all the others. She took a step away from him, turned her back to him, and then turned to face him again. Even in the Fade, tears gathered in her eyes.

“You have the whole world in front of you,” he said. “I won’t limit that any more.”

Her lips were parted but no words came out. She was shocked, he knew. She’d come here with every intention of fixing things. There had been no scenario in her mind where she didn’t fix things.

“You should go,” he offered at last, still keeping his voice as kind as he could, ignoring the fierce ache in his chest. “We can talk again another time, when you’re ready.”

She was gone.

It hurt, of course. It hurt even if he was the one who made the decision. Perhaps because he was the one who made the decision. There was no anticipation anymore. No counting days until the next time she would arrive on his doorstep. His dreams were lonely things again, the Fade ethereal and beyond his grasp. He realized that in his focus on his work and on her, he hadn’t made many other friends. He was alone now.

She did not take him up on his invitation to speak further until two months had gone by like that, hollow and grey.

“I’ll be back in Minrathous in a fortnight,” she said when she stepped into his dream. “I’d like to see you.” She was more withdrawn and uncertain than he’d seen her in a long time.

“You know where to find me,” he said. _I’d like that, too_ were the words that sat on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t speak them. He didn’t want her to come to Minrathous with too much hope. His own heart soared at the thought of seeing her. He knew it would hurt to come down. He could spare her that.

She was true to her word as ever, and standing at his door in a fortnight, the dust of the road still fresh on her blue cloak and her freckled cheeks. She’d come straight to him. She tried to smile when he greeted her.

“On nydhe,” she said. “I thought we could find something to eat.”

“Yes,” he said.

They ate and walked and she shared the story of her unanticipated return to Minrathous - the issues they faced in Orlais, a small paperwork issue that she didn't seem to phased by. She always loved to believe the best in people.

“Be careful,” he said. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

She studied him before replying - looking for what he didn’t know. “I will.”

They walked in silence for a little while after that, until Lucius noted how dark it had grown.

“Should I walk you back to your inn?” he asked, and the words pierced him at once. He’d never had to do that before. Never even had to ask the question. She was always smiling coyly at him, eager to return to his own room.

“I’ll walk you back,” she insisted. “The inn isn’t far from where you live.”

The silence that followed stretched thinner and thinner. They hadn’t talked about what happened yet - about them. Maybe they didn’t need to. Maybe he’d chosen the right tone all evening - friendly enough to show there was no bad blood, distant enough to discourage her from trying to mend bridges. Maybe she’d reflected and seen that he was right to end it.

“Maybe I could want this,” she said quietly as they turned onto his street. “Maybe I could-”

“Ash.”

She looked up at him, so serious, eyebrows drawn together, the magelight on the corner shining on her cheekbones.

“I could,” she said.

“But you don't.”

She couldn’t argue.

**

She was silent the rest of the way back to his home. The foot they left between them as they walked was suddenly too close. He could hear the swish of her cloak, knew how it would feel if he slid his arms underneath it to hold her. He saw in her downcast eyes the same hurt that sat like acid in his own blood. _Just a few more feet_ , he reminded himself. _Then we’ll part ways. Then it will really be over._

And then at the door to his flat she turned, took his face in both her hands, and kissed him, lingering and longing, her lips warm and soft against his own, and she still smelled like dust and clean sweat and the faintest hint of magic, the sharp, unmistakable scent of the Fade. He kissed her back without hesitation. Why wouldn’t he? This, here, was the first place he felt like he truly belonged in years. The weight of her in his arms made him tight all over, in his throat and chest and stomach and groin alike.

“I’m sorry,” she said when they pulled apart. “I just wanted to do that one last time.”

One last time.

“You can come in,” he said. He hadn't taken his hands off of her waist. His heart was still pounding. She nodded.

Just one last time.

She was unusually quiet when they went in, even as she slowly undressed him, and he slowly undressed her.

“Do you want this?” he asked, seeking her eyes.

“Yes,” she said, solemn, but no trace of hesitation. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

They took their time with each other, each touch slow and careful. He lowered himself between her legs and licked at her with long sweeps of his tongue, until her breath grew short and he could feel her walls suck at the fingers he slid inside her, trying to draw him deeper.

“Wait,” she gasped. “Come here.”

She pulled him on top of her, and then guided him into her, and for a moment he forgot to think about anything but how hot and tight she was, how every instant was exquisite. But he couldn't fail to see how closely she watched him as he moved in and out of her. She was memorizing him, memorizing this. Her hands slid down to his ass and gripped him, not hard, just enough to guide him, keep him at that slow pace, hold him close to her when he was buried to the hilt. He rocked against her, his heart catching at each soft cry she made when he pressed against her plump, sensitive bud. Their auras fluttered against one another even as her cunt fluttered around him and he felt release starting to gather, heavy and hot at the base of his cock.

“I’m close,” he warned.

“Wait?” She said. “Just a little longer?”

She didn't want it to be over.

He didn’t either.

“I’ll try. But you feel so damned _good_.”

He stayed still now, and kissed her, tracing the shape of her mouth. She sighed and opened for him, and he looped his arms under her back as they kissed, as she wrapped her legs around him, so they were as connected as they could be. They held like that, until she reached through the Veil and pulled warmth and a gentle, buzzing current through, running them both through his body and through her own. That was too much - he had to move with the rhythm of the current, pushing in and out and in and out until he felt her breath catch and saw her eyes widen in surprise and then scrunch shut as she came, arching against him, scratching his shoulders. Her magic flared hotter and more intense and she got tight around him and his own release washed over him, so hard he shouted at the sudden swell of it bursting out.

Ashara was looking at him when he opened his eyes again. Her lips were parted. She ran one finger along the shell of his ear to the faint stubble on his jaw. She looked like she wanted to say something, but instead lifted herself for another kiss. He stayed inside her until he was too soft to do so, and then finally drew away and lay on his back, looking at the ceiling.

“I’ll miss this,” she said then. “I’ll miss you.”

“I will too,” he said, holding her hand in the dark.

***

A month later, Lucius was having a vivid dream. He was young again, still living at the Circle in Vyrantium, and he was late for his classes, and if he was late again they would kick him out onto the streets, and the hallways of the Circle kept growing longer and longer and longer, and doors he thought he knew opened to rooms he’d never seen, and he knew there was a demon behind him but he didn’t dare turn and see which one it was -

And then he was on the battlements of Skyhold, Ashara at his side.

His stomach lurched.

“Ir abelas,” she said. “It didn't seem like you were having a very good dream.” She had a half-smile on her face.

“Thank you,” he said, sincerely. “I didn't think you were still watching.”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Not watching, exactly, but every now and then - I reach out and feel for your presence. I could tell you were upset.”

“It was a silly dream. Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh - good.”

Her recreation of Skyhold was so detailed. For a minute he simply took that in, marveling at how it truly felt like he was back within the walls of the ancient fortress at her side. He didn’t know what to say to her. He didn’t want to admit how much he missed this, how empty his dreams felt now. He was remembering the afternoon he sat at her side on those very battlements and wrapped her in his cloak, when she was still so fragile after her ordeal with Falon’Din, missing the warmth and safety of those hours, when she spoke.

“I’ll let you go now - back to your own dreams. But - can I still visit you, sometimes? I miss sharing my day with you. Hearing what’s going on in your life. But if it would cause you pain…”

“No,” he said, after a moment’s reflection. “It wouldn't.”

Ashara was fiddling with the edge of her sleeve, pulling on a loose thread, though with a moment’s thought she could have fixed it. Something bothered her.

“I had a nightmare. About Falon’Din. It was so real. I couldn't break free of it. That still happens sometimes. I don't know if it's what he did to my mind, or if it’s the blood magic…”

“I’m sorry,” he said. This was a moment where ordinarily he might have put an arm around her or kissed her cheek, or asked if she wanted to wake up so he could hold her in waking. He found himself at a loss instead. He had no other words to offer, after all.

“It just made me realize - you were there for all of that. For every moment. I will never think back on that time in my life without thinking of how you were there.” She stopped fiddling with her sleeve and looked him in the eye. The set of her face was resolute. “I will never feel anything but grateful for you. So - I want to be your friend.”

Maybe it was some trick of the Fade, but Lucius could have sworn then that he felt a connection like a cord between them, a tug deep in his gut that he knew she felt as well. The birdsong around them grew louder, the air around them warmer.

“I would like that,” he said.

“Good,” she said smiling. And then, after a moment in which he could still feel the pull, the resonance between them, her smile turned into a decidedly more wicked grin. “Because I _have_ to tell you about the man we saw in Cumberland yesterday.”

“Only if I can tell you about the man we’ve brought on to help with my enchantments. He brought an entire cask of dwarven ale from his last trip to Orzammar over last night and shared some of the strangest stories I’ve ever heard.”

They sat together on ancient stones, and whiled away those lonely nighttime hours in sunlight and each other's company, a magic more real than any he’d ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this time this is the end. For real. I do have a few other ideas simmering about where Ashara and Ellana and Solas’s lives go from here, but if I do post them, it will either be under my one-shot/AU collection “What Did I Miss?” or as a separate fic entirely. (Incidentally, the AU of this fic will finally be updated on Sunday, I hope.)
> 
> So, one last time: thank you for every last bit of support and encouragement! I have so loved sharing these characters with you, and I hope you’ve enjoyed them too. I remain open as ever for prompts and ideas!


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